Mayhem before Christmas
by RunningQuill
Summary: Christmas is not a season of peace for everyone. Certainly not for Hermione, who finds herself on the doorstep of her house on a cold winter night after she is kicked out by her own husband, a week away from Christmas! (COMPLETE)
1. Chapter 1

**A/N** : All rights on the Harry Potter Universe belong to J. K. Rowling!

It's finally Christmas break! YAY! I have to revise for my finals though… But my brain has gone on vacation! This is the absurd and utterly cliché product of my imagination!

It's going to be a daily-updated series of eleven ficlets to count down the days until Christmas!

Read, enjoy, review! Love and snowflakes to you all!

* * *

 _Thursday, December 9_ _th_ _, 2004_

Gritting his teeth, Draco exited the bathroom and made his way back to the living-room. Celestina Warbeck's mournful high-pitched vocalizations were becoming louder and louder as he walked down the dim corridor of the vast apartment. When he neared the gaping doorway of the living-room, he stepped within earshot of the hoarse wailing that accompanied the woman's screeching singing. Draco stopped, and careful not to spill the glass of potion he held in one hand, rubbed the bridge of his nose with the other, closing his eyes briefly and exhaling through his mouth to brace himself. When he had gathered enough courage, he plastered a somewhat frozen smile on his face – the kind of smile one would use with a mentally disturbed person – and entered the living-room.

It was plunged in half-light; the curtains of the high windows were drawn, but the little daylight that filtered through the gap between them was enough to make out most of the room. A curious smell of mingled pinewood, alcohol vapors, wood fire and human body in a more than doubtful state of cleanliness floated in the air. Celestina's earsplitting performance was coming in waves out of a gramophone standing in the far corner of the room, next to the floor-to-ceiling Christmas tree, which's silver baubles glinted dully in the light of the fireplace opposite.

The second source of noise was a formless, shivering lump lying on the leather sofa in the middle of the room, and which, on a closer look, was a tall, dark-skinned man curled up in fetal position and wearing nothing but a pair of loose black boxer shorts and a red dressing gown trimmed with white that reminded disturbingly of a Santa's coat. Stepping over the innumerable empty bottles of Butterbeer littering the floor, Draco walked over to the humanoid lump.

"Here, mate! Drink this," he said, setting the glass of potion on the coffee table near the sofa.

Rounding the table, he went to sit in an armchair opposite the half-naked, dark-skinned Santa, and shook his left foot with barely disguised revulsion to get rid of the used paper tissue that was stuck to the sole of his polished shoe.

"Drink," repeated Draco, scowling at the gramophone, which was now loudly lamenting over the fate of ' _the hearts filled with the pink poison of love_ '.

The lump on the sofa shook more than ever, stirred, swung a pair of bare hairy legs over the edge of the couch and sat up, sobbing. Draco politely averted his gaze and leaned forward to take his half-empty glass of Firewhiskey from the coffee table. His fingertips had barely brushed against it that it was snatched out of his reach and downed with a shuddering gulp by the distraught Santa.

"You think you know her… You spend years of your life under the same roof… You are already plan-… thinking about your child-... children's names…" Blaise's cavernous voice trailed off as he broke into another fit of sobs. "And then, she starts buying _fucking croissants_ for breakfast and tells you she needs something different…"

An animalistic howl erupted out of his chest, and the empty glass fell out of his hand and rolled across the carpet. Draco silently stared at his hands in his lap, wondering how many repeats of Celestina's ' _Midnight walk on the beach'_ accompanied by Blaise's echoing crying it would take before he turned his wand on himself.

"I should h-have kn-known!" hiccupped Blaise furiously. "When she st-started buying croissants… She ha-hated glu-gluten! And when she s-said she needed s-something exotic… _I am exotic!_ I am _fucking Italian_! Th-that's what I told her! I took off my pants and I told that bitch: 'If that's not exotic enough for you, I don't know what you need!'"

His brows rising into his hairline, Draco stared intently at a stain on the shiny surface of the coffee table and hummed distractedly.

" _What is this shit?_ " sputtered Blaise, wincing as he took a sip of the light blue potion Draco had brought him.

"Sobering potion," growled Draco. "Just fucking drink it!"

" _Sobering potion?!_ " bellowed Blaise furiously. "I thought you were my friend! What exactly are you trying to do here? You know what's going to happen if I sober up?"

Draco gave Blaise an unfazed look as he slid from the couch, dropped on his hands and knees and started to crawl through the floor, picking up Butterbeer bottles to check if they were actually empty. He rounded the coffee table and smacked Draco's legs that were in the way. Struggling to keep his calm, the blond man propped up his feet on the edge of the table so Blaise could crawl under his legs.

"Am gonna tell you what's fucking going to happen…" rambled on Blaise, lying on his stomach to retrieve the bottle of Firewhiskey that had rolled under the coffee table. "If I sober up, I'll be able to apparate… And you know where I'm gonna apparate? To fucking France! To get this bitch back! And of course, I'm gonna splinch myself and die, and it's gonna be your fucking fault, you asshole! _Blistering dried-up twats_!" he yelled suddenly. "There isn't a drop of booze left in this bloody house!"

He stood up and whirled around to face Draco, shaking the empty bottle vehemently at him; his threatening posture was greatly undermined by his drunken swaying.

"A problem, mate?" smiled Draco pleasantly, raising an imperturbable gaze to Blaise. "May I suggest you close that lovely dressing gown of yours? The proximity of your _Italian exoticism_ with my face is making me slightly uncomfortable at the moment…"

Blaise huffed and slouched heavily onto the coffee table, making its wooden surface creak under his weight.

"You are so full of yourself, aren't you?" he groaned, glowering at Draco. " _Look at me! I'm Draco Malfoy! My hair is perfect! My ass is perfect! I'm married to Miss Perfect and our life is perfect!_ " he chanted in a shrill, girlish voice. "What makes you think _she_ is different? Rotten to the core they all are! You're buying her lingerie but you never see the color of it because it's a French prick who is ripping it off her with his croissant-eating mouth while he shows her how he learned to use his _baton_ at Beauxbâtons!"

"Wow, wow, wow!" shouted Draco indignantly. "First of all, my hair and my ass did nothing to you, so please; do not drag them into this mess! Second… Look, it's not because your marriage is a sinking ship that you have to blow holes in mine! There is nothing _rotten_ about Granger!"

" _Granger_ …" scoffed Blaise venomously. "Look at you! You've been married for what – four years? - and you are still calling her Granger!"

Draco shrugged.

"It's a habit."

"Tell me about it…"

"It's a kink, if you prefer…"

"Bollocks! You just can't believe she is yours now! And I'll tell you what… You are _fucking right_! Because as soon as you start thinking she is yours, she starts bringing croissants for breakfast while trying to convince you that, in France, cheating is part of a healthy relationship! My ship didn't sink, Draco… It sailed… It sailed across the North sea with Daphne clinging onto an onion-perfumed dick and a trunk full of lingerie I gave her!"

Blaise broke off, breathing heavily, and for a moment, he and Draco just stared at each other in complete silence. Then, the record in the gramophone screeched, and Celestina cried ominously ' _If I love you, be wary for your heart! It's as fragile as a crystal ball in the claws of a clumsy cat!_ " Blaise wailed and started rocking back and forth again.

"You are a bad friend… _A bad, bad friend!_ " he sniffed at Draco. "Ogden is my best friend. I need Ogden… I'm going to find Ogden…"

As Blaise dropped back onto the floor, the hem of his red and white dressing gown trailing behind him, Draco buried his face in his hands, and throwing his head back, screamed soundlessly in his palms.

"I knew Ogden would be there for me… Ogden is good…"

Draco peered in the direction of Blaise's voice through his parted fingers; a slanting beam of light was bathing Blaise's butt clad in red while he rummaged under the Christmas tree. Next moment, he emerged from under the tree, making a bauble crash onto the floor, and sat on his bottom, tearing triumphantly the gift paper off what turned out to be an expensive bottle of Ogden's Best Firewhiskey.

"You know…" he said thoughtfully, pausing to uncork the bottle with his teeth, before spitting the cork all the way into the dying fire in the hearth, "She's gonna come back. You just wait… When she's gonna realize what life really is with her Frenchy… breeding frogs in a house made of cheese… She's gonna come back. But I'm not sure I'm gonna wait for her. I think I'm gonna go on a little trip… This fucking country is just like her, you know: cold, gloomy and easily accessed by a Frenchman through a tunnel!"

* * *

 **Note** : "cold, gloomy and easily accessed by a Frenchman through a tunnel!" : these words are not from me so I have to reference them! See 'the Big Bang Theory', season 9, episode 8!


	2. Chapter 2

_Tuesday, December 14_ _th_ _, 2004_

Sprawled in the middle of the king-size bed, Draco opened his eyes and squinted against the sunlight streaming through the large window on his right. It had been snowing overnight; a thin, bluish-white layer had accumulated against the window pane on the sill outside, and the bright daylight bounced off the iridescent snow crystals and reflected at angles. Draco stretched, his palms pushing against the headboard behind him, and shivered; the comforter was lying in a crumpled heap at the foot of the bed, and from the waist down, he was only tangled in a thin bed sheet. The bare skin of his chest was covered in goosebumps.

Rolling to his left side to turn his back to the blinding morning light, Draco let his gaze wander lazily around the bedroom. One of the doors of the two adjoining bathrooms was open, and his lips slowly curled into an appreciative grin. In the slice of the bathroom visible through the doorway, he could see the slender silhouette of a young woman, all in soft lines and enticing curves, while she stood before the mirror above the sink and gathered the heavy brown curls of her hair at the back of her head.

She wore nothing but a pair of emerald green lace knickers that hugged perfectly the rounded outline of her bum; against the sparkling whiteness of the bathroom, her skin looked a light cinnamon color. The muscles of her legs were working beneath her skin as she stood on the tip of her toes and examined the messy bun she had managed to pull her untamable hair in. For a long moment, Draco lay in silence, his eyes roaming her body with mounting hunger. The fire they had lit the previous evening in the fireplace opposite the bed was now merely glowing embers, and the temperature in the room had dropped several degrees. But he was far from complaining about it as he watched the light pink tips of her breasts harden. This dissipated the last wreaths of slumber, and Draco leaped out of the bed, closing the distance to the bathroom in a few long strides.

He walked over to stand behind the young woman and grabbed her hips, pulling her against his body, the morning hardness he was sporting beneath the fabric of his boxer shorts pressing against the small of her back. She let out a small gasp of surprise, dropping her hairbrush into the sink, before leaning into his embrace and resting the back of her head against his chest. Her hands flew to his wrists and tried to pry her hips out of his grip, before she eventually gave up and sighed with a mix of annoyance and faint amusement.

"I have to get ready," breathed Hermione as the young man nuzzled his face in the crook of her neck and trailed kisses to her naked shoulder. "I have to go in thirty minutes…"

"I believe it's not going to be possible," replied Draco in a seductively low voice. "In the name of the Magical law, I arrest you for your indecent and absolutely outrageous nudity. Go against the wall and turn around. I'm afraid I'm going to have to conduct a physical search."

Hermione giggled and wriggled out of his reach.

"And I'm afraid this is out of your jurisdiction, Mister Auror. This is a ladies bathroom, as you can see," she taunted, gesturing around.

"Resisting arrest? You are only making matters worse for yourself, naughty girl…" drawled Draco, advancing toward her threateningly.

With a squeal of delighted fright, Hermione attempted to make it for the door and duck under his arm, but Draco was faster, and scooping her thrashing form in his arms, marched out of the bathroom. He tossed her onto the bed, where she landed spread-eagled, and before she could try and get up, he climbed on top of her and pinned her wrists on each side of her head.

"So, where were we? Ah yes; the physical search…" he smirked with a wolfish look, before dipping his head to her chest and closing his lips around her right nipple.

"Oh, oh, oh!" whimpered Hermione as he flicked his tongue around it.

Draco lifted his head and quirked a mocking eyebrow.

"'Oh, oh, oh'? It's not Christmas yet…" he chuckled.

"Draco, stop… I-…"

Hermione bit her lip to stifle a moan as he attacked her other breast, laving it with his tongue.

"Sorry, what were you saying?" he asked innocently, pausing. "I had to take care of this one; it was getting jealous of the other."

"I have to go… I really, _really_ have to go…" cried Hermione, writhing under Draco's body and finally succeeding to make him roll off her.

The young man let out a frustrated grunt as she slid off the bed and scurried to the bathroom before he could catch her again.

"Who is the bastard who is making you work during Christmas break? Whom do I have to hex?" growled Draco, sitting on the edge of the bed and watching her somberly as she hurried to put on a matching bra and a midnight blue cashmere dress.

Hermione turned around, her cheeks still flushed and a few strands of hair flying out of her bun.

"Oh, it's just a case that turned up unexpectedly… You know how it is with the Wizengamot…" she mumbled evasively.

"It's the third time this month. I thought you were on vacation," scowled Draco.

"You are on vacation too, and yet, the Auror Office is owling you at least twice a day," replied Hermione with a shrug.

She turned to look in the mirror and tried to fix her tousled hair. Something curious churned at the pit of Draco's stomach as he watched her; he had the distinct feeling that she was avoiding looking at him. But just as he was about to say something, Hermione cut him off:

"How is Blaise doing?" she asked lightly.

Draco frowned and let himself fall back on the bed.

"There is progress…" he answered tersely.

"You should go and see him. It's not good for him to be alone now," sounded Hermione's slightly worried voice from the bathroom.

"I don't think you would appreciate that," sneered Draco.

He sensed her looking at him.

"Why is that?"

"Yesterday, he sent me the eulogy he wrote for himself with a note saying he is in transition between 'Stage 3: Dead' and 'Stage 4: Buried'."

"What?!" exclaimed Hermione in alarm.

Draco braced himself on his elbows to look at her as she rushed out of the bathroom, now fully dressed, to stare at him with wide eyes.

"Oh, there is nothing to worry about!" he explained sarcastically. " _'Dead'_ stands for his trying to drown himself in ungodly amounts of whisky, and ' _Buried'_ – for his burying himself between the legs of a stripper."

Hermione's brows rose on her forehead.

"And… hmm… out of curiosity, what are the other stages?" she questioned, unsure whether she ought to feel scandalized or amused.

"'Stage one: Celestina and Ogden's tango'… Please note that _he_ named the stages! I myself would rather call it 'Descent into Hell'. 'Stage two: Take this, bitch': he basically sent her the divorce papers with a bunch of Howlers…"

"Really? What did he tell her?" asked Hermione with mingled concern and interest.

Draco scowled.

"I couldn't tell… It sounded like an equally angry, depressed and sexually frustrated ghoul howling in pain. But I think Daphne got the main idea…"

Hermione bit the knuckles of her fist: laughing would have been inappropriate.

"Then, there is 'Stage three: Dead', 'Stage four: Buried', and 'Stage five: back to Stage one' until she returns the divorce papers," finished Draco. "I would consider us moving somewhere far from here when it comes to that, because if I have to witness Stage one ever again, you are going to become a widow!"

Hermione's face fell.

"Don't say that," she muttered.

Draco looked her in the eye; she had the same expression as every time he left for an Auror mission.

"Sorry," he said in a low voice.

Hermione shook her head and crossed the bedroom to the walk-in wardrobe to take her coat.

"You know, when Ron and Lavender broke up again last year, Ginny found a solution to the 'Celestina and Ogden' stage," she said thoughtfully. "It's called 'Take that kick in your ass and stop being a crybaby'. There is also the variant 'Stop blubbering or I'm calling Mom'. But I guess Mrs. Zabini wouldn't really understand Blaise's emotional issues…"

"Oh, you can still call Molly," smirked Draco. "She can scare the crap out of anybody."

Hermione chuckled and leaned over the bed to deposit a soft kiss on his lips.

"I'll be back in a couple of hours," she smiled and quickly swept out of the room.

Draco heard her footsteps fade in the distance as she went down the carpeted marble stairs, and some time later, the front door of the house slammed behind her. He didn't go to the window to watch her disapparate from the stoop, hidden from Muggle sight by all the wards cast around the house. Instead, he reached for the top drawer of his bedside table and took out the parchment envelope Blaise had sent him the day before. Besides the four pages long eulogy and the short note, what looked like a business card fell out of the envelope:

 _She disapparates in the middle of the night?_

 _He goes for a broomstick ride far too often?_

 _A leading private investigator spares no efforts to find out if your witch or wizard is keeping something under their hat!_

 _Give this card to your owl to contact us and let's let the cat out of the bag!_


	3. Chapter 3

_Saturday, December 18_ _th_ _, 2004 – 7p.m._

Hermione strode down the street, the heels of her knee-high boots clattering against the slippery pavement. The sky was a deep, velvety blue even though it was only seven o'clock, but the many city lights chased the winter darkness and bathed the streets in a warm, orangey light. She would often walk home instead of using the Floo network simply to enjoy the liveliness of London streets and the Christmas lights that had sprouted throughout the city in the span of a few days. The young woman turned a corner and headed for number 76: the three-storey, white-stone Victorian house looked more elegant than ever with the snow covering its slanting slate roof and the marble handrails of its stoop. Smiling dreamily at some inner musings, Hermione ascended the front steps and opened the door.

A delicious heat washed over her frozen limbs when she entered the bright entrance hall lit by a crystal chandelier overhead. Quickly slipping out of her boots, Hermione took off her scarf and coat and hung them on the coat rack with her purse, before crossing the hall to the curved marble stairs, passing the kitchen, dining- and living rooms doors on her way. She went up the steps, smiling as she felt her toes sink in the soft, dark burgundy carpet through the fabric of her tights. The darkness in the hallway of the first floor was broken by the golden light streaming through an open door halfway down the corridor. Her grin turning somewhat mischievous, Hermione tiptoed to Draco's study and stopped right at the edge of the well of light, staying in the shadows as she watched the blond man oblivious of her presence.

Sitting behind his massive wooden desk, Draco was engrossed in reading a long scroll of parchment he was levitating in front of him with his wand he twirled lazily between his fingers. His left hand was resting on the desk, his fingertips tapping irritably against the polished surface. The sleeves of his anthracite gray shirt were rolled up to his elbows and his white-blond hair was all messy – sign that he had been running his hand through it more than often throughout the evening. His face – which looked already stern because of his sharp, aristocratic features – was taut, and there was a crease between his eyebrows.

Hermione's smile faded. That crease had settled there almost permanently a little more than a week before; she dated it back to the day Daphne had definitively ran away with her lover and Draco had come home from a long afternoon he had spent comforting his best friend. She wasn't however entirely sure it had to do with Blaise; the tottering piles of official-looking papers and the stacks of files on his desk were certainly a good enough reason, as could be something entirely else. But the fact was she wanted to erase that frown, and it just happened she had an idea as to how to do that. A smile returning to her face – this time curiously shy yet glowing with anticipation – Hermione stepped into the light.

"I'm home!"

Draco looked up as she entered the study, and for a fleeting second, she thought she saw a flash of anger in his eyes, before his face became unreadable again. She stopped two feet away from his desk and bit the inside of her cheeks, watching him tentatively. She felt an irrepressible smile tug at the corners of her mouth. Draco's eyes ranged over her blankly for a moment, and he eventually flicked his wand, sending the scroll of parchment he had been reading onto one of the stacks on his desk.

"I have something to tell you…" started Hermione.

Her voice broke off as her smile widened, and she shifted.

"I wanted to wait a little, but you look a bit down lately, and I thought-…"

She trailed off again. Draco was still watching her without saying a word. Hermione rounded the desk and put her hands on his shoulders to turn him on his leather swivel chair so he would face her. She felt his shoulders tense under her touch, but he moved his legs from under the desk nonetheless, and dismissing her odd sense of foreboding, Hermione sat across his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Hey, Mister Broody… Care to hear what I want to tell you?" she chuckled, leaning into his chest and burying her face in the crook of his neck.

Her lips found the bare skin above the collar of his shirt and brushed softly against it. As Draco remained unresponsive, Hermione pulled away to see that his lips had tightened into a thin line. His gray eyes were steely, and this time, there was definitely something nasty in his gaze. Puzzled, Hermione was about to speak, when his hands suddenly grabbed her waist and roughly pushed her off his lap.

"Haven't you had enough of this for today?" he spat harshly as she stumbled away a few steps before regaining her balance.

Hermione stared at him in utter bewilderment.

"Draco…" she breathed.

"Don't you want to at least take a shower before climbing all over me or does it turn you on that I would smell him on you?"

He was speaking through gritted teeth in a low, measured voice, but his features were now twisted with rage. Hermione wanted to back away further, but his gaze was pinning her to the spot.

"What?" she croaked out.

His hands gripping the arms of his chair, Draco slowly rose from his seat. Hermione recoiled, going on the other side of his desk again and lowering herself onto the edge of chair standing there. In the puzzlement fogging her brain, anger was slowly starting to spark to life. Draco snatched a thick parchment folder from the top of the filing cabinet behind his desk and tossed it toward her. Without a glance at her, he crossed the room to a glass cabinet and opened it with stiff movements, taking out a glass and a bottle of Firewhiskey.

As he poured himself a glass of the amber liquid and downed it, his back turned to her, Hermione snapped out of her daze and returned her attention to the folder. Her hands were slightly trembling when she reached for it and turned it upside-down; a dozen of square pieces of glossy paper fell out of it on the desk. Hermione's eyes widened with surprise. Then, her brows furrowed. When she looked up, Draco was watching her; the knuckles of his hand holding the glass were white.

"What is this?" asked Hermione slowly.

Draco tilted his head, his lips curling into an ugly smirk.

"You tell me."

Hermione gazed at the photographs with incredulity; although black and white, they had been taken by a professional camera. They hadn't been enchanted to move and were all shots of the same place, taken within mere seconds. Hermione recognized the frontispiece of _the Four Wyverns_ , the only wizarding hotel in London, opened some two years before. The outside of the luxurious building was charmed to appear thoroughly Muggle and, at the same time, to repel the latter.

Through the bay window of the ground floor however, Hermione could distinctly see herself, sitting on an elegant loveseat in the hall of the hotel and talking to a tall young man, obviously handsome even though only half of his profile was visible. The rest of the pictures showed them getting up from their seats, inch after inch, her smiling warmly at the young man, embracing him and kissing him goodbye on the cheek in an undeniably affectionate gesture.

Hermione knew the photographs had been taken two days before. The anger she felt stirring feebly in her stomach churned like a nest of furious snakes. Her hands resting flat on the pictures, the young woman took deep, calming breaths.

"You made someone follow me?" she asked in a hard, carefully controlled voice, looking straight ahead.

Next moment, she jumped violently, whirling to her right and gasping; Draco's glass had smashed loudly against the floorboards, shattering to pieces.

" _AFTER EVERYTHING…_ " he roared. " _After everything we've been through_ …"

Leaning back on her seat, Hermione gaped at him in disbelief; he seemed to have snapped. The veins on his neck were swelling. Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw his wand, which was lying in the middle of his desk, spit a spray of silvery sparks even though he didn't have it in hand. His rage seemed to be radiating off him throughout the whole room.

" _After everything I did for you… You don't give a fucking shit, do you? You don't give a fuck that I risked my life just to be with you! I risked my life to save your ungrateful ass, and you don't even think I deserve the truth?! How can you look me in the eye after whoring yourself behind my back? How can you even look at yourself in the mirror? Why? Why?! FUCK!"_

While Draco shouted himself hoarse, Hermione felt her heart plummet in her chest. Strangely, her anger was receding, turning into freezing coldness and then, into numbness. Despite Draco's voice booming around her like thunder, Hermione could acutely hear her blood thumping in her ears in rhythm with her heart. She sat very straight on her chair, watching Draco silently. When he paused to catch his breath, she raised an eyebrow.

"Are you done?" she spoke with an almost terrifying calmness. "Do I have to wait a bit more until you finish making an obnoxious idiot of yourself and let me explain?"

For a split second, Draco looked taken aback, but then, his gaze fell on the scattered photographs and the muscles in his cheeks twitched.

"Go on," he sneered in a honeyed voice. "I'm curious to know what story you could possibly make up to explain this. _Fuck!_ He was fucking right… _A bunch of lying whores all of them_ …"

Hermione blinked at him, hurt flashing in her big brown eyes, before her face shut. She suddenly looked exhausted.

"You know what? After all, I think I don't want to explain," she said quietly, getting up.

" _Don't you dare!"_

She walked to the door, ignoring Draco's furious yell, and exited the room. When she reached the stairway halfway down the corridor, she heard him stride out of the study behind her but did not turn around, only accelerating her pace as she descended the carpeted stairs. The anger was back, coursing through her like poison.

Only once in the entrance hall did she look up; Draco had stopped on the stairs landing of the first floor and glared down at her over the railing. A mix of conflicting loathing and heartbreak was etched on his face. A pang of pain shot through Hermione's heart, but then:

"Get out of my house," he spat.

After angrily thrusting her feet inside her boots and snatching her coat and purse from the coat rack, Hermione threw the front door open and stormed out of the house, slamming it behind her. The silence that suddenly fell around her was deafening. Snow was slowly fluttering to the ground, adding to the layer of the previous day. The street was bathed in the colorful, flickering glow of the Christmas lights hanging between the lampposts. Cars were screeching by every now and then. Hermione put on her coat and wrapped her arms around herself. A sob erupted out of her chest as she stumbled down the stoop and strode to the sidewalk. She couldn't apparate anymore. She waved a hand and hailed a taxi.

* * *

 **A/N** : This story is not called "Mayhem before Christmas" for nothing!

And yes, yes, I know! It's full of clichés… But it's Christmas break, and as I said; my brain has gone on vacation!


	4. Chapter 4

Smidgen (Guest): This is a farce, right? It's her house too and she just leaves? And he just assumes enough because of someone else's misery to have his wife followed?  
This right here is why I'm convinced a lot of authors aren't married or don't understand relationships. This shit is ridiculous. People don't treat people they love and trust this way.  
Sure, it may be plot to you but it ain't good plot. It's trite and an unhealthy relationship you established as healthy.

My dearest Smidgen,

I'm just going to leave it here for you and other deliciously stuck-up people like you who might be tempted to leave this kind of review and ruin the mood of innocent writers… YES THIS IS A FARCE! If you read carefully enough, you would see that the genre of this story is humor. If you read carefully enough, you would see that in my author notes I said this was purely for fun because I wanted to write a story with a lighter plotline during Christmas break. Sure; I'm not married. I'm only 21. And I'm not pretending to be a marriage counselor and never did I say it was a healthy relationship! But who are you to judge the maturity of a person based on an openly humorous fanfiction? If you don't like it, I'm certainly not forcing you to read it! All the authors on this website are providing readers with FREE content: they take time out of their lives to entertain other people. Have the decency to go and vent your frustration elsewhere.

PS: You could at least log in before posting your lovely comments and have the courage to face the answers of the authors you criticize!

Merry Christmas!

* * *

And to all the wonderful, supportive readers who are enjoying this story despite its triteness and unhealthiness: have fun with what follows!

* * *

 _Saturday, 18_ _th_ _December 2004 – 8:30 p.m._

After quickly wiping her cheeks once more and smoothing her hair, Hermione raised her hand and knocked on the door of the hotel room. She had barely rapped her fingers against the door panel that it swung open, and she found herself facing a finely chiseled torso.

"Hello, love."

Hermione lifted her gaze and glowered at the brunet, who was smiling widely at her, his clear blue eyes twinkling. His dark brown curls were sticking out at angles, and he wore nothing but a bath sheet wrapped around his waist.

"Long time no see! Oh wait; it's been only one hour… Miss me already?" he chuckled.

His grin slowly slid from his face as he took in her expression, and he backed away a step.

"I see murder in your eye… I'm not sure I want to be part of this… Do I need to be part of this?"

"You are already part of this," huffed Hermione, brushing past him to enter the room.

She made a bee-line between the heaps of crumpled clothes strewn throughout the floor, scowled at the unmade bed and resolved to pick up an overthrown chair before sitting down on it heavily.

"What's going on?" asked Theo worriedly, closing the door and walking over to settle on the edge of the bed opposite Hermione.

The young woman seemed to be struggling to find her words.

" _That self-righteous, obnoxious git_ …"

"I assume you are talking about Draco?"

" _That stupid, ungrateful poor excuse for a husband_ …"

"Draco it is."

" _That self-centered asshole_ …"

"He does have a fine ass…"

Hermione cast Theo a dirty look before suddenly crumbling on herself and burying her face in her hands, shaking with silent sobs.

"Wow!" exclaimed Theo, sliding off the bed and kneeling before Hermione to pat her awkwardly on her shoulders. "What happened?"

"He thinks… thinks…" Hermione hiccupped. "Actually no… This idiot doesn't think! He hired a private investigator and believes I'm cheating on him with _you_!"

Theo stopped patting her shoulders and stared at her in complete awe.

"Err… He does remember that I'm more likely to be into _him_ than into _you_ , right?" he asked after a moment.

Hermione shook her head angrily, leaped off the chair and started to pace up and down the vast room.

"He doesn't know it's _you_! He didn't recognize you on the pictures because he has never seen you with short hair…"

Theo stood up, still thoroughly bemused.

" _And you didn't tell him that, because…?_ "

"He wouldn't let me! He called me a _lying whore_!" hissed Hermione through gritted teeth.

"Are-… Are you sure you didn't misunderstand and it wasn't rather something like ' _I love you more'_?" winced Theo.

Hermione glared at him.

"Well… I guess the murder thing is back on the table!" sighed Theo fatalistically. "You know, I came back from America to spend Christmas with my best friends, not to bury them…"

He looked at Hermione sympathetically as she stopped by the window, gazing somberly into the night outside.

"So, what are you gonna do?" he asked hesitantly.

"I'm going to give him all the time he needs to realize his mistake, and then… If he doesn't learn very fast how to crawl and apologize, I'm considering hexing his balls off. Otherwise, psychological torture based on his guilt until I decide I'm satisfied," answered Hermione testily.

"May I point out the flaw in that flawless plan?" queried Theo with false obsequiousness.

Hermione sighed, the corners of her mouth lifting ever so briefly, and went to sit on the bed, running her hand through her hair tiredly.

"How is he going to realize he is wrong – which he should know already, as you are always right obviously – … but if, let's say, this is the result of some brain damage and he forgets that, how do you want him to apologize if you don't tell him?"

"He would want to see Blaise soon enough to drag womankind into the mud… He would show him the pictures, and as Blaise knows you're here, he gets to be the one to deliver the good news!" replied Hermione with bitterness.

She glanced at Theo as he sat next to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"You are not going home, are you?"

Hermione shook her head no.

"Where are you planning to stay until he finds out? At Ginny and Harry's? Luna's?"

"These are the first places he would go to, and I certainly do not intend making things easy for him. Actually, I was thinking about taking a room here," she shrugged. "Just, if you are going to see him, don't look him in the eye; he is going to try and use Legilimency on you to see where I am, and I want him on his knees and begging for it!" she added darkly.

Theo's brows shot up.

"How do you expect me not to look one of my best friends in the eye? More than that; how do you expect me to resist a highly trained Auror with vast experience in questioning and no moral principles?"

"Pretend you have a stiff neck and can't look in front of you…" retorted Hermione, before nudging Theo in the ribs. "Merlin, Theo! I'm joking!"

She suddenly froze, her gaze falling on the nightstand by the bed.

"What's this?" she asked slowly, all trace of amusement gone from her face as she reached to pick up a small business card lying on the bedside table.

She recognized the logo in the top right corner; it was the same as on the folder Draco had thrown at her. The card read:

 _She disapparates in the middle of the night?_

 _He goes for a broomstick ride far too often?_

 _A leading private investigator spares no efforts to find out if your witch or wizard is keeping something under their hat!_

 _Give this card to your owl to contact us and let's let the cat out of the bag!_

"Oh, that… Blaise is giving those to whoever would take them," grunted Theo, rolling his eyes. "He is bitter and paranoid. I told him I was single and more likely to be in the position of the lover than of the deceived boyfriend, but he seems to think I should check the faithfulness of my shadow!"

"Blaise," said Hermione. "Right."

Theo, who had stood up to head for the bathroom and dress up, looked at her with wariness.

"Hermione, you have that look again… You know, the manic one you had the day of your wedding when Lavender complimented you on your dress and told you it was so beautiful that it made _you_ look cheap…"

"Oh, you mean just before all the peacocks of Malfoy Manor mysteriously went rogue and chased her through the grounds?" smiled Hermione devilishly.

"Yeah… Tell me the truth; do I have to ready a shovel or something?"

"The answer to this question will directly depend on the amounts of self-flagellation my husband dearest is going to be willing to display," said the young woman lightly. "You should put some clothes on, Theo. I want to go downstairs to check in and order room service for dinner."


	5. Chapter 5

_Sunday, 19_ _th_ _December 2004 – late morning_

Draco's first conscious thought was that Christmas had finally come and somebody had set off a whole box of Dr. Filibuster's Fireworks all around him to celebrate. His second thought was to wonder why they were partying in pitch blackness, before he remembered to open his eyes. It did not help much, even though the darkness turned slightly red. It took him a moment to mentally locate the different parts of his body, as all his limbs felt like cotton. Then, he raised a hand and fumbled through the air, before managing to make it land on his face and take off the piece of cloth, which was obscuring his vision. It turned out to be a pair of red knickers. Frowning at the small scrap of lace, Draco propped himself up on his elbows and ran a haggard gaze over his immediate surroundings.

He was lying on the floor of the bedroom next to the gaping doorway of the walk-in wardrobe. Inside, he could see that several drawers had been removed off their runners and thrown upside-down onto the floor. Their contents – knickers, panties, bras, garter belts and other bodices of various fabrics, shapes, and colors – were now strewn throughout the floor all around. For a long moment, Draco mulled over the mystery of his lying amidst a sea of feminine underwear like a child making angels in the snow, with Dr. Filibuster's Fireworks still exploding merrily under his skull. Somewhere in the depths of his mind, memories of the previous evening stirred feebly. His eyes fell on the nearly empty bottle of Firewhiskey standing a few steps on his right, and the memories finally crashed over him like a tidal wave, disconnected flashes stumbling over one another and accompanied by a cacophony of angry yells.

The pyrotechnic show under his skull turned into the distant noise of Muggle cars outside the windows, rattling and roaring past the house. The reason of his curious posture came back to his memory; the first three glasses of Ogden's Finest… the echo of Blaise's ominous words: ' _you're buying her lingerie but you never see the color of it because it's a French prick who is ripping it off her'_ … another round of ungodly amounts of liquor… his staggering down the corridor and barging into the wardrobe… his overthrowing Hermione's drawers of lingerie only to find out that what she had been showing off to her _whatever-his-nationality_ prick was the midnight blue lace set he had given her the previous month… and now it was blatantly missing as the woman wearing it…

"Blaise… _so fucking right_ …"

Scrambling unsteadily to his feet, Draco snatched the bottle of Firewhiskey from the floor and downed it. Deciding to move before this new wave of alcohol hit his brain, he exited the bedroom and dragged himself along the corridor, slurring his words as he alternately asked the walls and the floor to stop ' _jumping at him like that'_. He descended the stairs, gripping the handrail with both hands and, in a rapidly worsening state of unsteadiness, made his way to the fireplace of the living-room. When he emerged a few moments later out of the hearth in the living-room of Blaise's apartment, he paused in amazement at his succeeding to Floo there without mispronouncing his destination despite his lack of control on his tongue and his whole body in general.

"Blaise!" he called hoarsely. "Blaise!"

"Over here, mate!"

Draco squinted all around; his throbbing headache and the daylight streaming through the high windows were blinding him. Blaise's equally hoarse voice was coming from somewhere around the Christmas tree. Staggering in this direction, Draco saw him lying spread-eagled on the floor, his head under the tree, and staring fixedly through the low branches. This time, he wore no Santa-like dressing gown to conceal his nakedness, and his outfit consisted of only a pair of light blue boxer shorts and a pink feather boa.

"You just missed Cherry," he rasped out.

"Who is Cherry?" asked Draco, stopping a few feet away.

"A girl I've met… That's her boa… She is nice… So nice! Maybe I could save her from her life of depravity…"

Blaise let out a shuddering sigh.

"Who am I kidding?" he choked out, tears suddenly rolling down the sides of his face. "Rotten to the core all of them…"

His head rolled to the side and his watery eyes focused on Draco.

"You look like shit, mate!"

"Blaise… Blaise, you were so fucking right!" breathed Draco. "So fucking right…"

He closed the distance between them and slumped heavily onto the floor, lying down next to Blaise and resting his head under the Christmas tree as well.

"I know I was right," cried Blaise. "I know…"

He reached back and rummaged around the trunk of the Christmas tree. The lower baubles tinkled and the garlands rustled as he retrieved his bottled friend Ogden from behind the stump. He made it roll toward Draco, who uncorked it with his teeth and took a sip.

"What was I right about?" asked Blaise after a moment.

"Everything, mate! You were right about everything!" answered Draco.

Blaise wailed.

"And Celestina was right too…" continued Draco. "And I thought badly of her… So badly! I shouldn't have…"

"You shouldn't…" echoed Blaise.

"You were right, both of you! You were right, Celestina was right…"

"Right…" echoed Blaise. "She is not rotten that one!"

Draco's face suddenly crumpled. The word 'rotten' seemed to have caused what little composure he had to snap. He sat up to look Blaise in the face, his eyes red-rimmed.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry, mate…" he croaked out. "You weren't blowing holes in my ship! It was a shitty ship… There was already a leak in the hold… I hired that guy you told me. It didn't take him long… She is cheating on me, Blaise! Hermione Perfect-my-ass Granger is a fucking cheater!"

His mouth slightly agape, Blaise stared at Draco; he seemed to have momentarily forgotten his own misery.

"Seriously?"

Draco could only shake his head, his voice now too strangled to speak, and reached into the pocket of his trousers, taking out one of the black and white photographs and tossing it to Blaise. The latter sat upright and picked up the picture, bringing it closer to his eyes and pulling away alternately as though he had difficulties to focus his gaze on it. When he finally managed to do so, he examined it thoroughly, his brows furrowing at first and then rising high on his forehead. His eyes slowly shifted between Draco and the picture.

"She didn't even deny it!" growled Draco angrily.

He raised the bottle of whiskey to his mouth again and took several big gulps.

"Told her she could as well get the hell out of my house…"

"Oi."

Draco gave Blaise a questioning look as he rose to his feet and stood over him, swaying a little.

"Oi," repeated Blaise. "You are in deep shit, man."

Draco sneered with bitterness. Meanwhile, Blaise was sobering up so fast that it looked as though he had taken a full vial of Sobering potion. He started to pace throughout the room, bumping occasionally against the furniture and casting horrified glances at Draco. He finally stopped, arms hanging at his sides, and took a deep breath.

"Now mate, tell me; when you… huh… asked her about it and told her 'to get the hell out of your house'… you did it lovingly and with all due respect, right?"

"Are you fucking kidding me?" scoffed Draco.

"Oi!" moaned Blaise.

He covered his face with his hands and peered at the blond Slytherin between parted fingers.

"And she left?" he whispered in consternation.

Draco only sniffed, a muscle twitching in his cheek. After a long moment of mute horror, Blaise walked over, squatted down, put his hands on Draco's shoulders and looked him sternly in the eye:

"Okay, now I need you to answer one question: did my name or did it not come up in the conversation?"

Draco blinked in confusion.

"I dunno… I don't remember…"

"Think, Draco Malfoy!" shouted Blaise. "Think fast and tell me if she knows _I_ gave you the idea of the investigator!"

"Why is that important?" scowled Draco and then recoiled before Blaise's threatening look. "Okay, okay! Yeah, it might have slipped my tongue at some point…"

The dark-skinned man stood up and threw his arms in the air in defeat.

"I'm fucked," he said calmly, bowing his head. "You are fucked. We are fucked."

He stared into space, thinking about something, panic gradually permeating his face.

"And Granger is on the loose…" he finished.

He snatched his wand from the coffee table and turned on the spot, darting it in every direction as though he was expecting to undergo an invisible attack.

"Like I fucking care!" spat Draco, glowering at him. "My guess is she is with that fucking bastard! Merlin… She is with that prick, I know it! And he is touching her… He is fucking touching her with his dirty paws, Blaise! Right now, my wife is being screwed in a hotel room… I'm gonna throw up… I need to throw up…"

"You need to pack!" cut him off Blaise, looking worriedly out the window while remaining hidden by the curtain. "You know that little trip I was talking about? I'm gonna take you with me. We are leaving the country, mate. From now on, we are fugitives! And if we need to die, I want us to die some place nice, like in Mexico…"

"What the hell?!" exclaimed Draco impatiently. "What are you talking about? Do you know him? _Fuck!_ I'm going to rip his head off! Tell me who he is, right now!"

His friend slowly turned to face him.

"Remember that ship of yours?" he said. "It was fine, mate… It was perfectly fine… But I'm sorry to tell you that you've just released the Kraken on it!"

* * *

 **A/N:** Such drama queens all of them! :P


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** I'm sorry I'm answering to your reviews only now, but there was a glitch and they weren't showing up, and I wasn't even getting the emails! All the reviews of the past two days showed up only this morning, and I had to read about twenty of them at once! I just want to tell you what a bunch of amazing people you are! I was smiling like a fool while reading your nice, wonderful, funny, encouraging comments, and I've been re-reading them for the whole day! Thank you so much! You made my day, and if this story makes you smile even just a little, then consider me happy! Thanks to all of you, lovelies; ndavis77, phoenixjean16, APeaceOfPie4Everybody011, Makaco, Scaleybark, Chebyrashka, LightofEvolution, hockey1, Dramione shipper17 (you made me laugh so hard!), negativecreep91, wkayl04, Jenna B, Porpenqueeny, and all the guests!

* * *

 _Sunday, December 19_ _th,_ _2004 – later in the morning_

"Blaise, I swear that if you don't tell me at once who he is, my own colleagues will have to lock me in Azkaban for what I'm going to do to you!" shouted Draco.

Blaise looked at him impassively. He waved his wand to accioe a small vial of light blue potion that came flying through the doorway of the living room, took a sip and handed it to Draco.

"Sober up," he said. "Because if you don't calm down at once and listen to me carefully, your colleagues will have to lock _your wife_ in Azkaban for what she is going to do to both of us."

Glaring daggers at Blaise, Draco took the vial with shaking hands and swallowed two big gulps of the blue liquid. For a few moments, he just sat on the floor, his shoulders hunched and his elbows on his knees as he breathed deeply, waiting for the potion to take effect. Then, he slowly got to his feet and went to sit on the sofa. Blaise gave him a satisfied nod and settled in the armchair opposite, adjusting the pink feather boa around his shoulders in a gesture full of poise and dignity.

"Okay," he said. "Remember when Theo said he wouldn't be able to come back from the States for Christmas?"

"What does it have to do with…?" started Draco angrily.

He broke off, clenching his jaw with a murderous look as Blaise put the picture of Hermione kissing the other man in the middle of the coffee table and pushed it toward him.

"This," continued Blaise pointedly, tapping the man with his finger, "This is Theo."

Draco's gaze traveled between Blaise and the picture, his face blank.

"No, it's not," he said finally.

"That's what I'm saying," nodded Blaise, relieved. "It's Nott."

But Draco gave him the same blank look.

"No, it's _not_ ," he repeated.

Blaise frowned.

"Yes, it is," he insisted in the stern voice a Healer would use to announce to a patient the diagnosis of an incurable disease. "He managed to get some time off until the end of January. He arrived about two weeks ago, but he wanted it to be a surprise… You know how he is; always an attention whore! He planned to dress up like Santa and get himself delivered in a giant gift box on Christmas Eve! Until then, he wanted to fool around with some old acquaintances, and Hermione and I have been visiting him at the _Four Wyverns_. I know he doesn't look like himself on this, but he has cut his hair and stuff… I didn't recognize him either when I saw him two weeks ago!"

He watched Draco worriedly; the blond man sat very straight, his hands resting on his knees, and kept staring unblinkingly at the picture on the table, his face wooden.

"Mate?" called Blaise. "Did you hear what I just said?"

Draco did not move. It looked as though he had been struck by lightning. Blaise waved a hand before his face.

"Draco, are you here?" he asked a bit louder. "If you are having a stroke, blink twice!"

As there was still no response, Blaise stood up and patted the top of Draco's head sympathetically.

"Okay, look, I'm going to get Theo… You just stay here… Don't move… Keep doing whatever you're doing right now, okay?"

Readying his wand, he turned on the spot and disapparated, apparently considering that his pink boa and blue boxer shorts were a perfectly decent outfit. When he and Theo (who compared to Blaise looked like the epitome of sophistication in his gray silken pajamas) materialized out of thin air in the middle of the living-room some minutes later, they found Draco in the exactly same posture, except that his brows had travelled all the way up to his hairline, his eyes were wide like saucers, and his mouth was open on what could have been a soundless scream of horror.

"I think I broke him…" muttered Blaise to Theo as they stood a few steps away, watching the blond Slytherin – Blaise with concern, Theo with an almost scientific curiosity.

Eventually, Theo walked over and squatted in front of Draco.

"Hey, mate! Good to see you!" he exclaimed cheerfully. "How are you doing? Did your soul escape your body through your mouth?"

He reached up and pushed on Draco's chin to clasp his mouth shut.

"Look," he continued merrily. "I just wanted to tell you that Hermione really isn't my type… Don't get me wrong; your wife is hot as hell! But if I had to choose, I would rather do you, you know… Not that I've been thinking about it or anything!"

Turning to Blaise, he winked devilishly. The dark-skinned man rolled his eyes.

"This is clearly not working…" sighed Theo, whirling back to Draco. " _DRACO MALFOY, GET A FREAKING GRIP, YOU BLOODY CUMBUBBLE_!" he bellowed suddenly, making even Blaise jump.

Draco started as though he had received an electric shock. His gaze focused on Theo, and he drew a shuddering breath.

"Theo, I - … I -…"

He gasped for air.

"… been a douchebag?" supplied Theo in a pleasant voice. "Lived up to everybody's expectations of you being a complete moron? Tried to render your saint of a wife deaf while yelling at her, before kicking her out? Ruined your marriage?"

Draco stared at him mutely, before jumping to his feet and starting to pace throughout the living room, clutching his tousled hair with both hands.

" _FUCK!_ " he shouted. "What have I done?!"

Theo tilted his head.

"I would say you hit bottom…"

" _Fuck!_ "

"…and started digging…"

"Okay, I get it…"

"… and now you are halfway to China!"

"Theo!"

The brunet shrugged.

"You have a pair of knickers on your butt."

Draco gave him a puzzled look.

"What?"

Theo gestured at him, and Draco twisted himself to look at the back of his trousers; a pair of dark red lace panties was stuck with static electricity to the fabric of his trousers. He lifted the small piece of see-through fabric between two fingers, his face falling as he stared at it, before shoving it into a pocket.

"Interesting…" commented Theo. "I thought you were more of a leather thong kind of guy."

"These are Hermione's," snapped Draco, glowering at him.

He rubbed his face with his hands.

" _Fuck!_ Hermione!" he exclaimed, panicked. "Have you seen her? Where is she? How is she?"

"The last time I've seen her was yesterday evening…" answered Theo, watching him sympathetically. "Don't worry; she's fine. She gave the number of your Gringotts account to the receptionist… You might have a little surprise when you get the bank statement: she took the penthouse suite, and she also couldn't decide what she wanted for dinner, so she ordered everything on the menu. And sorry about the champagne; that was me. I wanted to know if it was as good as people say to take a bath in it. It really isn't; after five minutes, my dick started prickling and now it's all red…"

"She is at the _Four Wyverns_?" cut him off Draco impatiently.

"Oops…" Theo grinned sheepishly. "I wasn't supposed to tell you… Sorry, Hermione," his grin turned mischievous. "Not sorry."

"I need to see her!" breathed Draco, pulling his wand feverishly out of his pocket and raising it as he prepared to disapparate.

At this moment, Blaise closed the distance between them in one jump and pried the wand out of his hand.

"Wow, wow, wow!" he shouted, holding the wand out of Draco's reach. "That's when I'm gonna intervene! _Do you have a death wish or something?!_ "

Draco moved to take his wand back, but Blaise ran to the coffee table and jumped on it, the wand held high over his head.

"I need to see her!" growled Draco with mingled anger and desperation. "I need to fix this! And I also need to stop listening to your advice!"

"I admit my last advice was a shitty one!" retorted Blaise, leaping from one foot to another as he tried to duck Draco's attempts to grab him and knock him off the table.

Theo watched the scene with fascination from the sofa.

"But unlike you, I'm not suicidal! You can't just go there and talk to her!"

"She is my wife!" roared Draco.

Blaise leaped from the coffee table onto the sofa and then vaulted over its back to cower behind it. Theo was now sitting between them, a childlike amazement written all over his features.

"The world is full of people fit for a lifetime of psychotherapy because of your wife!" replied Blaise, slightly winded. "I think you are the only one who doesn't realize what she is capable of! Theo and I have known her for only a few years, but believe me, we've learned enough about her… Tell me if any of this rings a bell; she set Snape on fire in our first year…"

"…in our third year, she punched you in the face…" chimed in Theo.

"Merlin, it was just a slap!" scowled Draco exasperatedly.

" _You cried,"_ chorused Blaise and Theo.

Draco pursed his lips, looking at them sullenly.

"In our fourth year, she kept a _woman_ in a jar for weeks…" continued Blaise.

"…in our fifth year, she abandoned Umbridge in the Forbidden Forest to a herd of pissed centaurs…" added Theo.

"… and do we even need to mention the peacocks' incident four years ago?" finished Blaise.

" _I get it!_ " hissed Draco through gritted teeth.

"Do you? Because your wife has some high standards when it comes to retaliation!" said Blaise emphatically.

Draco slumped heavily onto the edge of the coffee table and massaged his temples, his elbows on his knees.

"Fine. What do I have to do?" he grunted, glowering at his friends.

They exchanged a look.

"Well… I think the right thing to do is to give her some space, let her digest the events," answered Theo. "You should owl her, invite her to talk over lunch or dinner someplace nice…"

"Yeah, some good restaurant with plenty of witnesses around you. Just in case," nodded Blaise.

"And then, it's like taming a hippogriff," pursued Theo. "Bow your head, don't look her in the eye, flatter her ego… And if she starts snapping, back away and kneel before her!"

"I don't think you're helping him, mate," sighed Blaise. "Draco is shit at taming hippogriffs."

They both assessed him with critical looks. Draco's gaze shifted between them, his expression desperate.

"Oh, well," said Theo, "just try to keep that face, and I'm sure even a hippogriff would take pity on you!"


	7. Chapter 7

**Note:** A bit of vocabulary beforehand:

 _Cazzo_ (Italian): shit/fuck

 _Stronzino_ (italian): you little jerk

 _Vaffanculo_ (Italian): go fuck yourself

 _Porca miseria_ (Italian): bloody hell!

(Because it's also a useful, educational story! You're welcome!)

* * *

 _Wednesday, December 22_ _nd_ _, 2004 – Diagon Alley_

The tiny bell hanging on the door jingled as Draco entered the cramped shop and made his way between the shelves of miscellaneous bric-a-brac. A second later, the bell rang again as the door of the shop was thrown open once more. For a moment, the daylight streaming through the glass door was obscured by a shapeless figure that tried to push itself through the doorway and was seemingly made of various shopping bags, packages and bundles. A muffled flow of profanities, some of which sounded charmingly foreign, was coming from the middle of the moving pile of bags.

"… _Cazzo!_ You spoiled, lazy cumtart… What am I? A fucking house-elf? _Stronzino!_ A little Christmas shopping he said… To buy Granger a gift he said… _Vaffanculo!_ "

With considerable efforts, Blaise finally made it into the shop and dropped the tottering piles of packages onto the floor.

" _Porca miseria!_ " he panted, wiping his forehead and glowering at Draco, who was standing before a shelf and was examining the displayed articles with a thoughtful look, twirling idly his wand between his fingers.

Blaise reached inside his cloak and took out an engraved silver flask. The plump, elderly witch with small round glasses and short white curly hair that made her head look like a giant dandelion tsked disapprovingly as she watched Blaise take a swig of the flask from her spot behind the counter. Slipping it back into the inside pocket of his cloak, Blaise walked over to Draco.

"Are you planning to buy the whole goddamn street?" he grunted.

Draco scowled.

"It's been three days, Blaise," he hissed through gritted teeth, frowning deeply. "I've tried everything; supplications, flattery, bribery… She is not answering to anything! I could as well send my owls to the Bermuda Triangle! I need to find her the perfect gift…"

"I believe _Witch Weekly_ released the list of the most eligible bachelors last week… Think about it; soon, you'll be forced back on that list anyway, and Granger could take one off it to replace you!"

Draco ignored him.

"D'you think she would like that?" he asked, picking up a shiny, jewel-encrusted contraption.

"Sure… What is it?"

"Do you need help, my dears?"

They turned to the small witch who approached them with a motherly smile. The elderly shop owner looked like a granny watching her favorite grandchildren.

"Yes!" exclaimed Blaise, before Draco could say anything. "What would you advise a man who sabotaged his marriage and wants to be back into his wife's good graces? Or simply into his wife…"

"Blaise!" snapped Draco.

"What?" shrugged the Italian. "Hateful sex is as healthy as any other…"

"I see," nodded the old witch knowingly, looking Draco up and down before turning back to Blaise. "How bad is it exactly?"

"As bad as it gets…" sighed Blaise.

The witch tilted her head.

" _Blaise,"_ growled Draco under his breath.

"He blasted it to pieces," continued Blaise gravely.

" _Shut up!_ " hissed Draco threateningly.

Blaise and the old witch waved him off disdainfully.

"He set it on fire and danced on the fuming ruins, before scattering the ashes to be trampled by a herd of centaurs!"

Draco squeezed his eyes shut and took deep calming breaths.

"Well," said the granny in a sing-song voice, "You have to make the young lady feel that her wants and desires are your top priority."

She brushed past the two Slytherins, heading to the back of the shop. Her dandelion-like head disappeared behind a shelf. Blaise gave Draco a sly look as he glared daggers at him.

"How old is the lady?" called the witch's voice from somewhere behind the far shelves.

"Twenty-five?" answered Draco, slightly apprehensive.

The witch's round head popped from around a shelf, her blue eyes peering at him skeptically from behind her golden spectacles.

"Is it a question or an assertion, young man?" she asked with a severe look.

"An assertion?" mumbled Draco awkwardly.

The old witch quirked an eyebrow. Draco cleared his throat.

"An assertion," he repeated more firmly.

The granny nodded sharply and disappeared again.

"I assume the marital bed will be a forbidden territory for quite some time…" sounded her voice in the distance.

"What - " started Draco, taken aback.

The witch's head bobbed into view once more, and she gave him a sharp look.

" _The horizontal mambo_ ," she clarified.

Draco drew a sharp breath, choked and gawked at the spot where the witch's head was a second earlier. Next to him, Blaise snorted.

"Making the beast with two backs," continued imperturbably the granny somewhere in the back shop. "Cleaning the pipes. Climbing Mount Pork-o-lay-la. Makin' whoopee. Getting Nookie. Bow-chika-bow-wow! Engaging in coitus that is… How do young people call it these days?"

Patches of deep pink creeping up his neck, his eyes bulging out of their sockets and his mouth hanging open, Draco stood completely stunned. On his right, Blaise had collapsed against a shelf and was desperately clinging onto it not to slide onto the floor as he shook with silent laughter, his breath wheezing and tears rolling down his cheeks.

"What I am saying is that all of this is off the table at the moment, right?" concluded the witch.

"N-No…" protested Draco feebly.

"Yes!" shouted Blaise gleefully, still suffocating with laughter.

The granny reappeared with a satisfied smirk, carrying an oblong item, which looked like a smooth, rounded unicorn horn that sparkled in the light of the candles. Draco, still very red, eyed it warily, while Blaise wiped his eyes and straightened to look at it with sharp interest.

"Latest model," announced the witch. "It's extremely efficient, and the design is very enticing. All the witches want one at the moment! I had to order a whole new box last week because I had run out of stock…"

She suddenly paused and looked at Draco closely. A flash of recognition passed over her face, and her eyes twinkled mischievously.

"Oh, oh, oh!" she chuckled. "I believe _your mother_ bought one two weeks ago… Lady Malfoy, right?"

"Err- yes," answered Draco, bewildered. "But… hmm… what is it?"

The small granny straightened, a smile full of fondness gracing her features.

"A young lady has needs, young man," she said pointedly, "And if she doesn't want _you_ to satisfy those needs, then there is the _Holly Jolly Witch's Ride 2000_ …"

" _Oh fuck_ …" breathed Draco, clutching his heart.

Blaise emitted a yelp of delight.

"Very easy to manipulate… There are several sizes…"

" _Oh Merlin's shitpants_ …"

"I think that one is good…" commented Blaise with a smile stretching ear to ear. "Granger is rather petite. Although she might want something bigger for a change…"

He and the elderly witch turned to Draco with appraising looks.

"I'll show you the bigger model," settled the witch.

"I need to get out of here…" moaned Draco, whirling around in panic as he tried to locate the exit in the maze of shelves.

"Do you want me to explain how it works?"

"Yes, please!" gasped Blaise in awe.

" _NO!_ " roared Draco, grabbing him by the scruff of his neck and steering him to the exit.

With a flick of his wand, he opened the door of the shop and sent all the packages Blaise had been carrying flying outside onto the sidewalk, before storming out himself and dragging a hysterical Blaise behind him. He slumped against the wall, breathing heavily and casting around wild looks. Blaise sat down onto the sidewalk, clutching his ribs as he gasped and hiccupped from a new laughing fit. The witches and wizards passing by eyed the two Slytherins with curiosity.

"My brain…" moaned Draco. "My brain is scarred!"

"I think I'm gonna get one for Cherry!" spluttered Blaise. "I had yet to find her a Christmas gift!"

"You are planning to see her again?" asked Draco, surprised.

"I actually invited her to spend Christmas with all of us," shrugged Blaise.

Draco, who had started picking up their purchases from the sidewalk, froze, staring at him.

" _You invited her to the Manor for Christmas?_ " he croaked out in indignant disbelief.

"What's the problem?" replied Blaise with a shit-eating grin. "She and your mother could have a nice chitchat and exchange their opinions on the _Holly Jolly Witch's Ride 2000_! Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to buy it…" he snickered, running back into the shop before Draco could pounce on him.


	8. Chapter 8

**Note** : I'm sorry if this chapter is not as funny as I wanted it to be… It's 2 a.m. here in Paris as I finish writing it, and I'm exhausted! But I had to catch up with my schedule as promised!

* * *

 _Wednesday, December 22nd, 2004 – The Four Wyverns_

" _The hottest couple of the year goes up in flames. The young Lady Malfoy left the marital home on last Saturday night and did not return ever since. Witch Weekly is ready to update its Bachelors' List…_ Ugh! What a pile of rubbish!" exclaimed Hermione angrily, tossing the magazine onto the table on her right, where it landed on top of a pile of envelopes and scrolls of parchment covered in writing.

She lay back in the massage armchair that had been installed in the penthouse suite and gazed somberly at the ceiling. Theo, who was settled in another massage armchair on her left, wearing a white bathrobe, lifted the cucumber slices that covered his eyes and glanced at her sympathetically.

"That's quite a pile of mail you have here…" he commented, looking past her at the table, where, besides the scrolls and envelopes, stood four large vases with two dozens of red roses in each (the flowers in the farthest now being slightly withered) and innumerable velvet cases, which most probably contained expensive jewelry. "You still haven't answered him, have you?"

"These are not all from him," huffed Hermione. "With that stupid article in _Witch Weekly_ , I've been getting letters since this morning with everybody asking me what's happening…"

She picked up a thick parchment envelope and crinkled her nose, eyeing warily the Malfoy family crest on the wax seal.

"This one is from Narcissa… I'm afraid of opening it…"

With a sigh, she broke the seal and unfolded the elegant piece of stationery that was inside the envelope.

"Huh…" she hummed. "Losing his nerve, isn't he? Ran to mummy to get some help…"

Theo leaned over with interest as Hermione's lips curled into a smirk.

"Apparently, it would be a family trait," she sneered, skimming through the letter. "Narcissa is telling me that Lucius used to get paranoid every two or three years at the beginning of their marriage… She advises me to turn it into a profitable business… Oh my! I didn't want to know that!"

Her eyes widened and she bit her lip.

"Tell me!" urged her Theo.

"She says that whenever she wants to expand her collection of diamonds, she would go out several nights in a row and make a show of not wearing any underwear to provoke a fight… That way she can later blackmail him into buying her whatever she wants…"

"That woman is my role model," sighed Theo approvingly. "What is it?" he asked, seeing as Hermione's brows rose high before furrowing again.

She rolled her eyes.

"Lucius…" she grunted. "He is asking me in the post-scriptum how much I want to stay with his son… Says I'm his only hope to have grandchildren before he kicks the bucket. I'm not sure how to take this…"

"It's the thought that counts," philosophized Theo. "And what about our little blond scallywag? Are you planning a spanking session any time soon?"

Hermione glowered at the pile of letters as though she was trying to set them on fire with her gaze alone.

"I'm not sure he is desperate enough yet…"

"Oh, believe me; he is! I don't want to pressure you or anything, but I'm the one who gets to babysit them, and he and Blaise are getting completely out of hand!"

Hermione turned to Theo, watching him with hardly concealed, gleeful curiosity.

"Really?"

"Are you kidding? Two grown men and accomplished wizards like them suddenly abandoned by their wives… It's like watching two kicked puppies trying to survive in the wilderness! When I saw Blaise yesterday, he had turned his last pair of drawers inside out so he could use them two days in a row, and he and Draco were eating a tray of lasagna above the sink with their bare hands like animals, because there wasn't a clean fork left at Blaise's! I'm telling you; they are slowly returning to the primitive state of man."

Hermione stared at him in horrified disbelief.

"I thought Blaise had a house-elf!" she breathed.

Theo shook his head.

"Daphne took her."

Hermione's eyes widened, her gaze softening for a split second, before she quickly pulled herself together and crossed her arms over her chest scornfully. Theo chuckled.

"Hey! I'm not complaining, love," he said, leaning back leisurely on his armchair and popping a cucumber slice into his mouth, before picking a flute of a bright yellow drink standing on a small round table next to him. "Oh my… This Detoxifying Draught is outrageously expensive…" he breathed, his eyes ranging over a large scroll of parchment listing the service offering. "Are they going to cut out one of my kidneys after this little spa session?"

"Do you still have the number of that bank account I gave you?" asked Hermione as a young witch clad in lilac robes entered the room.

The young witch nodded, smiling pleasantly.

"Here, take another one," smirked Hermione, handing Theo another flute of the yellow potion. "And we would also like 'the ultimate shoulders enchanting massage', please?"

"Of course!" smiled the witch brightly, before exiting the room.

She returned a minute later, accompanied by a tall and handsome young wizard with honey blond hair, big blue eyes and wearing the same lilac robes. Before they could go and stand behind his and Hermione's armchairs, Theo had straightened, eyeing the young wizard with a look that was nothing if not sultry.

"Can you do me?" he grinned, flashing his perfectly white teeth.

" _Word choice!_ " hissed Hermione under her breath, but the young wizard was already heading to Theo's chair with a small smile, while the witch went behind hers.

"I'm Theo!" beamed the brunet at the blond wizard.

"Dave," grinned the latter, placing his hands on Theo's shoulders. "Pleasure to meet you."

"Oh, I'm sure you'll give me just that," purred Theo, looking up at Dave innocently.

Hermione had to refrain from face-palming. She gave Theo an exasperated look and leaned back as her own masseuse – Cindy – started kneading her shoulders. The Slytherin winked at her, before lifting his face back to Dave.

"You are reminding me of someone…" he said with the same broad smile. "An old friend of mine… Is blond your natural color? I love blondies… How wonderful… Hey, Hermione, I'm sure you know who I am talking about?"

"Theo, dear, I _always_ know what you are talking about, and right now, I'm trying not to associate your words with any pictures in my mind," replied the young woman lightly.

"Your shoulders are very tense, you know?" commented Dave as Theo melted in his armchair like a giant cat being petted.

"Hmm… Oh yes… I'm very stiff…" he answered in a low rumbling voice, smirking mischievously.

Hermione stared fixedly at the ceiling, biting the inside of her cheeks.

"Especially in the morning, you know?" continued Theo imperturbably. "It's like a mounting tension that gets harder and harder and needs to be released…"

Hermione stuffed her knuckles into her mouth and bit hard.

"I can help you to pump it all out, if you want," replied Dave in a thoroughly professional voice. "Blow it all away…"

Hermione emitted a squeak, her cheeks very red and her eyes tearing up.

"Oh yes," beamed Theo. "It would be wonderful if you helped me to lift it all up or to shove it somewhere! You know, sometimes I feel so _full_ of tension that I could literally _explode_ …"

Hermione, who had started drinking her own Detoxifying Draught, choked and sputtered, the yellow potion flowing out of her nostrils. Cindy stifled a giggle. Next to them, Dave and Theo seemed completely oblivious, their eyes locked together.

"And I thought I was done with the sickness for today…" croaked out Hermione, wiping her nose with a napkin.

"I think you could definitely use a hand with this," nodded Dave with a poker face. "Discharge it into somebody else, you know."

"And do you think I could open up to you?" winked Theo.

"Naturally," grinned Dave.

"I'm afraid of going too far though…" insisted Theo. "It can be hard to swallow…"

"Don't worry," smirked Dave, "If I feel that you can't take it all in, I'll just step back a little!"

" _OH GOD!_ " exploded Hermione, burying her face in her hands.

Cindy's shoulders were silently shaking. Theo looked at them with an angelic face.

"Looks like you're enjoying your massage," he smiled, his eyes glinting.

There was a knock on the door of the suite in the other room.

" _Thank Merlin!_ " shouted Hermione.

She leaped off her armchair and bolted out of the room. Theo and Dave exchanged sly grins. They heard the door of the suite open and the young woman talking to one of the hotel employees as he brought her a package that couldn't be delivered by owl. A few moments later, Hermione returned into the room, carrying a long box and unfolding a note attached to it. Her eyes quickly scanned the note, and she frowned.

"What's that again?" she muttered, unwrapping the package. "If it's another piece of jewelry, I…"

The note fell out of her hand as she suddenly froze and stared at the contents of the box, her mouth slightly open. A blush slowly spread from her neck to the roots of her hair until her whole face turned holly red.

"What is it?" asked Theo with curiosity, sitting upright in his armchair.

Hermione snapped the box shut and swallowed thickly.

"N-Nothing…" she stuttered. "I think you were right when you said they are losing it… I think it's high time I answer him…"

She went to the wardrobe and crammed the box inside her purse.

"… I'll shove it up your ass, Draco Malfoy, and see if you like it! 2000 times exactly!" she muttered indignantly under her breath.

* * *

 **A/N:** The amount of innuendos in this chapter is rocketing!


	9. Chapter 9

_Thursday, December 23rd, 2004 – early morning_

 _The Four Wyverns_

The cold winter sun was struggling to pierce the thick snow clouds hanging over London, and the city was barely starting to stir from its slumber, unaware of the impending cataclysm. Meanwhile, it was indeed underway as dozens of owls took their flight to deliver the Wizarding newspapers of the day.

Sitting on the toilet with one leg hooked over the other, his foot dangling in rhythm with the opera aria playing in the bathroom of his suite, Theo lazily flipped through the pile of newspapers and magazines that had been delivered to his hotel room half an hour earlier. He was about to discard _Witch Weekly_ when he froze in mid-gesture, staring disbelievingly at the colorful front page.

"Looks like Draco reached China after all," he said at last fatalistically. "Shit is going to go down…"

 _Central London, Malfoy residence_

Yawning, Draco descended the carpeted marble stairs of the house, a feeling of hopeful satisfaction swelling inside his chest for the first in two weeks. The note was merely a few scribbled words, but at least the silent treatment was over; she had agreed to see him and have a discussion over lunch. With a small smirk, he wondered whether she had taken the decision before or after trying out his latest gift.

"THE MAN OF THE DAY!" bellowed a familiar and unwelcome voice as he reached the bottom of the stairs.

Draco jumped, nearly tripping over the last step.

"Weasley!" he exclaimed angrily, glowering at the redhead as the latter rushed out of the living-room. "Potter, why does your morganatic spouse have his knickers in a twist?" he snarled as Harry slowly followed Ron out of the living-room. "What the hell are you doing here?"

His gaze shifted suspiciously between the two Gryffindors; Ron looked like a child pumped up on candies on Christmas morning, while Harry sported a somber look.

"We are here for the show of course!" answered Ron, overflowing with cheerfulness.

Almost bouncing, he strode to Draco and stuck his wand under his nose, mimicking an interviewer.

"Tell us everything!" he asked enthusiastically. "What is the key to your success? How did you manage such an achievement?"

Draco recoiled, glaring daggers at him.

"What the…"

"This is great art! Absolutely grandiose!" shouted Ron with glee.

"Potter, did you let the weasel play with catnip again?" growled Draco as Ron leaped around him.

Harry opened his mouth, but Ron wasn't done.

"We knew you would blow up your marriage at the take-off, but this is the apotheosis! The grand finale in a blaze of glory!" he exulted.

"I didn't blow up my marriage!" barked Draco to cover Ron's voice. "Everything is going to be fine! I'm seeing her for lunch!"

"Oh, you mean for your last meal?" jeered Ron.

"What the hell do you want, you delusional creeps?" snarled Draco, shoving Ron away.

"We haven't actually decided yet whether we are here to stop Hermione from murdering you or to help her," answered Harry.

But before he could say anything else, a loud _crack_ sounded behind them, and they all whirled around to see Theo materialized out of thin air in the middle of the entrance hall.

"Oh good, the suicide squad is already here!" he observed, smiling pleasantly.

"Theo, explain what the fuck is going on!" shouted Draco.

Without a word, Theo handed him the copy of _Witch Weekly_ he was carrying under his arm. Draco snatched it from him impatiently, scanned the front page and froze. A picture of him strolling down the Diagon Alley was splashed all over the cover. It had been obviously taken the previous day, except that he did not remember having a tall, dark-skinned beauty with armfuls of shopping bags following him. The photograph was surmounted by the juicy title ' _A bit of Christmas shopping with the next Mrs. Malfoy'_.

"What's this clusterfuck?" he croaked out just as the heavy silence in the entrance hall was ripped by another loud _crack_.

"Stop! This man is innocent!" managed Blaise breathlessly, jumping in between Draco and Harry and Ron. "Been looking for y'all… It's us… yesterday… me… transfigured… _That's me!_ "

"You are the next Mrs. Malfoy?" beamed Ron.

"Yes! I mean…"

"You transfigured yourself into a woman?" breathed Ron in complete awe. "Can it get any better?"

Theo, on the other hand, appeared deeply scandalized.

"You said I was going to be your first choice if you were to explore that facet of your sexuality! We did a pinky swear!"

Blaise cast him a dirty look, his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath.

"This is Parkinson's work…" he gritted out. "Look at the article… This dirty little twat transfigured the picture to make it look like Draco was with another woman!"

Theo, Harry and Ron all leaned forward to take a closer look at the magazine Draco was still gaping at.

"She didn't have to do much work on that fetching little butt of yours…" commented Theo. "I recognize its incomparable curves."

"I'm not sure how to take this…"

"From behind, Blaise. From behind."

Ignoring them, Draco slowly went to the stairs and slouched heavily onto the bottom step.

"This is it," he said, lifting to them the face of a man ready to be dragged off to the scaffold for hanging. "She is never going to believe me. And now I have to get a snake."

"What for?" asked Harry, puzzled.

"Isn't Blaise's enough?" chimed in Ron slyly.

Draco barely glanced at him.

"If I'm going to be an old, lonely man, I'm going to need a thing, you know, a hook," he answered, looking at Harry. "Like that guy in Knockturn Alley who eats his own face. So I figure I'll be Crazy Man with a Snake, you know. Crazy Snake Man. And I'll get more snakes, call them my babies, kids will walk past my place, they will run. 'Run away from Crazy Snake Man,' they'll shout!"

He ran a hand through his hair.

"And if she does kill me to end my suffering now… Theo, you can have my broomstick…"

"As much as I would love to ride your broomstick…" cut him off Theo, paused and ran a mischievous gaze over the others, but they all remained stone-faced. He huffed. "No need to get dramatic. I'm gonna go to Hermione, tell her everything and fix this! Potter, come with me; she'll trust you."

"Err…" hesitated Harry, glancing at a very disappointed Ron.

Theo rolled his eyes.

"Draco, the hippogriff face!" he commanded.

"What?"

"The hippogriff face. Now. Yeah… More pouty… More pathetic… Show us the bottomless pit you've fallen into! That's it!"

He turned to Harry.

"And now?"

"Fine…" sighed Harry, throwing up his arms in surrender.

"You're a cinnamon bun, aren't you?" winked at him Theo, looping his arm through Harry's and side-disapparating them.

Blaise patted Draco's shoulder reassuringly, while Ron heaved a sigh. He was about to go and sit on the bottom step as well to wait for Theo and Harry's return, when a loud _crack_ startled them all for the umpteenth time. Theo and Harry walked over wit thoroughly apprehensive expressions. Draco jumped to his feet, giving them a questioning look.

"We might have a situation here…" announced Theo.

"What?" pushed Draco. "She didn't want to listen to you?"

Theo and Harry exchanged somber looks.

"Hermione is gone," said Harry at last.

"Gone?" repeated Draco blankly.

For a long moment, they all stood in complete silence. Ron was the first one to break it. Standing on the bottom step and looking down at them all:

"Well, obviously we have a Hermione on the loose in London. She can be anywhere, snatchin' your peacocks up, tryin' to imperiuse them, so y'all need to hide your Slytherins, hide your ferrets, and hide your private bits, 'cause she is hexin' everybody out here," he professed ominously.

* * *

 **A/N:** References:

"I'm gonna be an old, lonely man, I'm gonna need a thing, you know, a hook, like that guy on the subway who eats his own face. So I figure I'll be Crazy Man with a Snake, y'know. Crazy Snake Man. And I'll get more snakes, call them my babies, kids will walk past my place, they will run. "Run away from Crazy Snake Man," they'll shout!" – Chandler, _Friends_ , 'The one where Heckles dies', S2E3.

Well, obviously we have a rapist in Lincoln Park. He's climbin' in your windows, he's snatchin' your people up, tryin' to rape 'em. So y'all need to hide your kids, hide your wife, and hide your husband cause they're rapin' everybody out here." – Antoine Dodson (look it up! another famous meme: "Well, obviously we have a basilisk in Hogwarts school. He's climbin' up your staircase, he's snatchin' your Muggleborns up, tryin' to petrify 'em. So y'all need to hide your Gryffindors, hide your Hufflepuffs, and hide your Ravenclaws cause they're petrifyin' everybody out here.")

I hope you enjoyed it! My comedy well is running dry today…


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N:** I'm a bad, bad author! This was supposed to be a countdown fic and I'm running late on my schedule…

Thank you for your patience! Merry Christmas to you all! I hope Santa has been generous! Much love!

* * *

 _Thursday, December 23rd, 2004 – evening_

 _Central London, Malfoy residence_

 _Crack, crack, crack, crack_ … One after the other, Draco, Theo, Blaise, Ron and Harry materialized out of thin air in the entrance hall.

"It could have been worse…" started Theo, watching worriedly Draco as he started to pace throughout the hall aimlessly.

"I doubt it," grunted Blaise.

"Yeah, you are at least supposed to know whether your wife is still in the country or not," said Ron.

"I need a drink…" mumbled Draco, heading to the doorway of the living-room.

The others followed but had to stop abruptly in their tracks when Draco suddenly froze on the threshold. Huddled in the doorway, they peered over his shoulders to see why he had stopped, but most of the living-room was shrouded in darkness, the dying fire in the fireplace casting spidery shadows on the wall opposite.

"Husband dearest."

Blaise, Theo, Ron and Harry stepped back a pace like one man. The voice that had risen out of one of the armchairs augured nothing good. A figure hidden in the shadows moved in the depths of the armchair, and the living-room was suddenly flooded with bright light as Hermione lit all the chandeliers with a single flick of her wand. The young woman assessed the five men coldly, sitting primly upright with her legs crossed, her hands on the leather armrests of the seat, Crookshanks spread out leisurely across her lap. For a fleeting second, during which his brain forgot about his more immediate problems, Draco wondered when the beast had gotten home; he always insisted on leaving the door leading to the garden at the back of the house open, secretly hoping that the blasted animal would disappear and never return. The cat's yellow eyes were fixed on Draco with a nasty look and promised murder. The expression of his mistress was no better.

Blaise cleared his throat and edged forward tentatively, pulling his now inseparable flask out of his cloak and holding it out.

"Hey, Hermione, sweetheart, would you like some? You seem a bit tense…"

"Shush!" exclaimed Theo, giving a smack on Blaise's arm. "She is not allowed to…"

He broke off, clasping his hand over his mouth and casting Hermione an apologetic look as her eyes widened threateningly. But nobody seemed to have noticed his slip, busy as they were eyeing the young woman warily.

"Blaise Zabini," she snapped, quickly pulling herself together, "have the decency to make yourself invisible in my presence."

"Yes, ma'am," he mumbled, retreating hurriedly.

In the uncomfortable silence, all the gazes travelled between Hermione and Draco, who had collapsed against the doorframe, his eyes locked on her.

"Hermione, drop the cat, please," said Harry as firmly as he could, moving forward. "We don't want any casualties here…"

Crookshanks turned his squashed head to him and hissed.

"Easy…" smirked Hermione, petting the cat. "If you don't want any casualties, I would ask you to leave us alone, me and Draco."

"Would you at least consider leaving your wand on the coffee table?" asked Harry with the gentle voice one would use with a dangerous psychopath.

Pursing her lips, Hermione pulled her wand out of the pocket of her long black skirt and put it on the coffee table. After a moment reflection, she reached for her purse at the foot of the armchair and took out a long box she also put on the coffee table. Draco's eyes widened, and Blaise emitted a muffled squeak.

"What's this?" asked Harry, puzzled.

"Another thing I could use as a weapon," said Hermione lightly. "Now leave."

"Okay, but before we leave, you have to know that Draco did nothing wrong…" insisted Harry. "Well, apart from everything else! But this article in _Witch Weekly_ … It's Blaise!"

Hermione's brows rose on her forehead.

"It's a setup… I mean…"

"I know what you mean," cut him off Hermione. "I saw Ginny today. She told me it was Parkinson. I believe she is at the newsroom right now, cancelling Pansy's Christmas bonus and including a well-deserved Bat-Bogey hex in the envelope of her next pay slip."

An endless relief passing over his face, Draco opened his mouth, but a single glance from Hermione made him snap it shut.

"Oh well, we'll leave then!" said Ron merrily. "Come, Harry… Hermione. Crookshanks," he nodded to them.

"The hippogriff face, mate," muttered Theo to Draco out of the corner of his mouth. "The hippogriff face!"

Nodding to Hermione, Blaise, Theo, Harry and Ron backed away from the living room and disapparated. Silence fell on the house, only broken by the crackling of the fire in the hearth and Crookshanks purring loudly, his yellow eyes glowering malevolently at the blond Slytherin.

"Hermione…" breathed the latter.

"I'm sick of it, Draco."

Her face shut, she considered him for a moment, before pushing Crookshanks off her lap and standing up. She took a few steps away from Draco and turned her back to him, her arms wrapped around herself. All blood drained from Draco's cheeks. His back still pressed against the doorframe, he watched her, holding his breath.

"I'm sick of it," she repeated quietly without turning around. "I'm sick of always being the one who fights for our relationship, when you always seem to cling onto any reason to mess it up."

She fell silent, standing still in the middle of the living-room. Draco squeezed his eyes shut. He felt as though he had swallowed a bucket of ice. Without looking at her, he slowly went to the fireplace and placed his hands on the marble mantel, gazing unseeingly into the dying fire. When Hermione spoke again, he felt as though iron chains were constricting his chest.

"And what hurts the most is that, as you said, after everything we went through, you jumped on conclusions and believed the worst of me without a second thought! It's like you don't know me at all. Don't trust me at all…"

Her voice broke, and Hermione took several deep breaths.

"We've been married for four years," she continued when she had managed to steady her voice. "We've been together for six. And you still act as though you expect to wake up one morning and find out that all of this has been a game, that I've changed my mind overnight and gave up."

She finally turned to Draco, but he was still facing the fireplace, leaning forward slightly with his hands braced against the mantel. She watched his stiff figure silhouetting against the bright hearth.

"If you yell at me like this ever again, or call me names like you did, I'm going to do it. I'm going to give up and leave for good," she said, her voice hard. "I'm not saying we won't fight ever again. And sometimes, I'll maybe even deserve to be yelled at. But it doesn't mean we can't sort things out the civilized way," she finished.

She stood, waiting, but Draco seemed to have turned into a statue. With a frown, Hermione took a few steps in his direction and froze, suddenly noticing that his hunched shoulders were shaking ever so slightly. Her eyes widening, she edged toward him silently until she could see his profile, and her face fell.

"Draco…" she breathed, shocked, and slipped under one of his arms so as to stand between him and the fireplace.

She reached up and cupped his damp cheeks in her hands. He didn't move but only seemed to shrink into himself, his eyes squeezed shut and his lips tightened into a thin line.

"Look at me," commanded Hermione.

Slowly, his eyelids opened and his quicksilver eyes focused on her, the tears flooding them shining in the dancing light of the fire.

"I'm not asking you to forgive me," he whispered through gritted teeth. "I'm asking you to give me a chance to show you that I would do anything for what we have, for us…"

Without a word, Hermione wiped his cheeks with her thumbs, before reaching to take his wrists and wrap his arms around her. Draco immediately pulled her against his chest and bowed his head, resting his forehead against hers. His gaze drifted away from hers.

"Do you still love me?" he muttered in a barely audible voice.

Hermione smiled softly.

"You're an idiot," she answered quietly.

Standing on the tip of her toes, she deposited a small kiss on Draco's lips. The corners of his mouth lifted, and his eyes locked with hers when she drew away.

"I'm tired," she said, freeing herself from his embrace. "It's been an extremely long day. I've been a bit sick in the morning… Nothing to worry about," she added, seeing Draco's alarmed look. "Then, I had to find Ginny, deal with Parkinson… Nothing to worry about," she repeated, but her eyes flashed dangerously. "At least not permanently…"

"Okay… Well… You want to go to bed?" offered Draco. "I won't touch you!" he said quickly. "Or- Or I can sleep in one of the guest bedrooms…"

He shifted awkwardly. Hermione quirked an eyebrow, looking scandalized.

"You won't touch me?" she repeated. "And why should _I_ be punished?"

Draco's head shot up, a hopeful grin spreading on his features. Hermione gave him a sarcastic look and headed for the door of the living-room. When she suddenly stopped, Draco, who had followed her enthusiastically, almost bumped into her.

"I forgot this…" said Hermione, striding back into the living-room and picking up the long box from the coffee table with a mischievous smirk. "What?" she said innocently. "I haven't tried it out yet!"

"Err…" mumbled Draco with a slightly panicked expression. "Hermione, princess, as I said, I'd do anything for you… But I'd like my exit door to stay an exit door! This… This is only for you, right?"

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Yes," she said, biting her lip not to laugh, "This is only for me."

"Oh!" exclaimed Draco, his whole face lighting up. "Oh! After you then…" he beamed, bowing reverently as Hermione swept out of the living-room, grabbing his tie as she passed and tugging to make him follow her.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N:** I DID IT! FINALLY! This chapter got completely out of hand! I have no idea how I ended up with this monster, and I apologize in advance for the utmost absurdity of it all! I hope it will be worth the wait! Enjoy your read, lovelies!

 **Chapter 11**

 ** _Saturday, December 24th, 2004 – Christmas Eve_**

 ** _Central London, Malfoy residence – 7 p.m._**

Standing on the threshold of the walk-in wardrobe and leaning his shoulder against the doorframe, Draco watched Hermione scurry throughout the dressing room from one rack of hangers to the other, leaping on one foot as she slipped her other one into a high heel shoe, skidding to a halt before various drawers to pick pieces of jewelry to complete her outfit and casting panicked glances to the elegant gold watch glittering on her wrist every now and then.

"We still have plenty of time," said Draco reassuringly. "There is no need to rush."

Hermione, who was wearing a fir green satin dress with a boat neckline, see-through lace sleeves and a flare knee long sequined skirt, limped to the mirrored back wall of the room, looking like a fawn learning to walk as she struggled to adjust to the five inch heels of her black velvet shoes. Draco's gaze ranged over her appreciatively while she looked at herself in the mirror, adding a few more bobby pins into the heavy mass of her curls gathered at the back of her head and putting on a pair of emerald earrings. He himself was wearing an anthracite gray shirt with silver cuff links and a matching silver silk tie, a black velvet waistcoat embroidered with silver thread, tailored black trousers and a pair of highly polished black Italian leather shoes.

Taking his hands out of his pockets, Draco walked over to stand behind Hermione and placed his hands on her waist, pulling her against him as he leaned to trail kisses from her bare shoulder to the crook of her neck and up to her earlobe. He caught it briefly between his lips, before whispering in her ear;

"You look stunning…"

He sneaked a glance in the mirror and saw that Hermione's cheeks were suddenly tinged with pink even though she did everything to keep a thoroughly unfazed face.

" _Huh, huh_ …" she hummed, freeing herself from his embrace and striding to a set of drawers to choose a strapless clutch.

Draco followed her and caged her in his arms again.

"I can think of nothing but pressing my lips against yours…" he drawled seductively, his lips hovering over her earlobe again, while his hands ghosted teasingly over her hips.

"I know what you are trying to do," huffed Hermione in an exasperated yet amused voice.

"Really?" asked Draco in falsely innocent wonderment. "You know that I'm trying to redeem myself with ungodly amounts of outrageous yet sincere flattery and highly pleasurable sex?"

Hermione made a sound halfway between a sarcastic snort and a giggle and spun around in his arms to face him.

"If I let you kiss me, will you let me get ready in peace?" she sighed, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

Draco nodded, his eyes glittering mischievously. Hermione stood on the tip of her toes as she offered him her lips, but to her surprise, he suddenly dropped to his knees before her.

"What are you doing?" she gasped as he bunched up her skirt, his thumbs caressing the bare skin of her thighs above her black hold-ups.

"Oh, I didn't say _which lips I had in mind_ …" smirked Draco, flashing her a wolfish look.

"Oh no! Wait… Draco! We are going to be l-late…" protested Hermione in a rather feeble voice, a blush coloring her cheeks and her eyes widening as she was suddenly pushed against the chest of drawers. "Draco, stop… We are going to be…" she broke off and bit her lip, slamming her hands on the dresser behind her to remain standing. " _Oh…_ Oh, don't you dare to stop! _Oh, oh, oh…_ Draco!"

 ** _Wiltshire, Malfoy Manor, Drawing room – 7:30 p.m._**

" _Jingle bells, jingle bells_ …"

"Theo, would you please sit down!" called Ginny with annoyance, her eyes following Theo's bouncing form.

She, Harry, Ron, Luna and the latter's new significant other Rolf were all settled in the comfortable leather armchairs and loveseats in the middle of the vast room, gathered around an elegant ebony-wood coffee table on which stood a silver tray laden with chocolate muffins Luna and Rolf had brought with them. Instead of joining them, Theo, clad in a velvety green jumpsuit with tiny golden bells jingling at his wrists, ankles and around his belt, was hopping throughout the room like an oversized Christmas elf, straightening the Christmas decorations hung over the furniture and examining with interest the mountains of bundles wrapped in bright gift paper and colorful ribbons and piled around the giant Christmas tree in a corner of the room. Turning to Ginny, he flashed her a cocky grin and sang all the louder:

" _Jingle bells, Zabini smells,_

 _Daphne ran away!_

 _Christmas cheer, I am queer,_

 _Wanking all the way!"_

"Theo, don't make me hex you!" growled Ginny threateningly, pulling her wand from the folds of her red evening gown.

The brunet only rolled his eyes and bounced over to snatch a muffin from the tray, the bells covering his body tinkling madly.

"Hey, why such dark faces?" he asked cheerfully. "Feels like a funeral!"

"It's the first time we're all spending Christmas together, so the least we could do is to behave ourselves," retorted Ginny.

"I don't know why Narcissa Malfoy invited _us,"_ said Ron somberly, _"_ but I don't like it! We should probably check our food for poison…"

"I think she did it to please Hermione," shrugged Harry. "She must have told her that it was only going to be the five of us at the Burrow, and that Molly wasn't fancying such a small gathering…"

"I'm not sure you'll be much better off here," snorted Theo between two bites of muffin. "With Draco's parents and the Grangers not talking, the open vendetta between Lucius and your father," he nodded to Ginny, "Blaise planning to bring a… err… rather unconventional creature with him, which's going to give Cissa a stroke, and the Weasel so frustrated that we'll find him humping a Christmas tree by the end of the evening!"

"Hey!" protested Ron angrily. "Now you are just being a dick!"

"You are what you eat!" chanted Theo serenely, bouncing away. " _Jingle bells_ …"

"Hermione and Draco are late…" muttered Ginny, casting a worried glance to the small watch on her wrist.

"D'you reckon she killed him?" said Ron hopefully, taking another muffin from the tray Luna was pushing toward him.

" _Jingle bells, flying spells,_

 _Hermione's gonna slay!_

 _Draco cries, his prick dries,_

 _I'm happy I am gay!_ " sang Theo merrily.

 ** _Wiltshire, Malfoy Manor, Lucius' study – 7:30 p.m._**

Pressing against the back of his leather armchair as though he wanted to melt into it, Daniel Granger took a sip from his glass of Firewhiskey and gulped down as silently as he could. The gazes of the innumerable Malfoy family portraits on the walls were pinning him to the spot. In another leather armchair on his left, Arthur Weasley was staring into his own glass as if seriously considering drowning himself in it. Opposite them, Lucius Malfoy was looking intently into the fire that was crackling merrily in the marble fireplace on their right, firmly clutching a crystal decanter of liquor in one hand while twirling idly his glass in the other. The silence in the luxuriously furnished study was so heavy that one could almost hear the snow falling beyond the mullioned windows. Mr. Granger cleared his throat awkwardly.

"So… It's rather chilly outside, isn't it?" he said tentatively.

"Cold, very cold indeed," nodded Mr. Weasley, apparently still mesmerized by the bottom of his glass.

"Freezing cold," gritted out Lucius Malfoy.

Mr. Granger cast around desperately, but then decided it was better to focus on his hands to avoid the nasty looks of the portraits.

"The weather is rather unforgiving this year, isn't it?" he managed in a strangled voice.

"Terrible, terrible…" agreed Arthur on his left.

"Dreadful," said Lucius.

The heavy silence fell back over the room. The three men downed their drinks without looking at each other.

 ** _Wiltshire, Malfoy Manor, Kitchen – 7:30 p.m._**

"The kids are in the living-room and the men in the study; they are all out of earshot!" said Narcissa Malfoy, entering the gigantic kitchen of the manor and carefully closing the double doors behind her.

She turned to the three women sitting around the huge, sparkling black marble kitchen island. Molly Weasley was twiddling distractedly with a butcher knife and a cutting board laden with peeled carrots, an apron covering the front of her flowery party dress. Settled on a bar stool across from her, one leg hooked over the other with poise, Gisela Zabini was sipping cherry liqueur from a crystal shot glass. At the farthest end of the kitchen island, Jane Granger was perched on the very edge of her bar stool, her gaze shifting timidly between the three witches. Behind her, half a dozen of house-elves were busying themselves over the sparkling stovetops and marble worktops against the far wall, pots and pans bubbling and whistling merrily and issuing clouds of steam, mouth-watering smells wafting throughout the kitchen. Narcissa, looking regal in her black silk evening gown, ran a severe gaze over the women, her hands clasped together in front of her.

"Alright ladies," she said sternly, "let's cross the T's and dot the I's. We are all civilized and well-educated people here; we don't want our children or our men to think that we can't behave ourselves! So to whoever passes through that door, we are spending some perfectly friendly time with each other while helping the house-elves with the dinner to please our dearest Hermione."

Molly put the butcher knife on the cutting board and pushed it to the center of the table, Gisela took another sip of liqueur and smacked her lips haughtily, Jane straightened a little on her bar stool, and Narcissa went to take seat at the nearest end of the kitchen island, gracefully perching on a bar stool. The four women exchanged meaningful looks, and slowly, their pursed lips curled into conniving smirks.

"Shall we begin, girls?" asked Narcissa, snapping her fingers and her eyes glittering.

Their faces glowing with anticipation, Gisela put down her glass of liqueur, Jane leaned forward, and Molly slammed her palm on the table.

"So, who has tried it?" whispered Narcissa with a wide grin.

 ** _Wiltshire, Malfoy Manor, Main living-room – 8:03 p.m._**

Stepping out of the emerald green flames swirling in the hearth, Hermione dusted her skirt and made a few steps in the vast, empty living-room plunged in half-light.

"We are late…" she huffed anxiously, looping her arms through Draco's, who was standing by the fireplace.

"Oh, I wouldn't say that. If you want my opinion, _you came right on time_ …" he muttered under his breath, smirking devilishly as they made their way out of the room.

 ** _Wiltshire, Malfoy Manor, Lucius' study – 8:05 p.m._**

"I haven't had a chance to thank you and Narcissa for inviting us over for Christmas," said Arthur as Lucius poured them all a new round of drinks.

The silence had been lingering for so long that Mr. Weasley seemed surprised to hear his own voice.

"With our son Bill and his wife spending the holidays in France, Percy working, Charlie in Siberia, and Fred and George wanting to celebrate with Katie's and Angelina's families, it would have been only me, Molly, Ginny, Harry and Ron at the Burrow… It's very nice of you."

"Not at all, not at all…" replied Lucius through gritted teeth. "The more, the merrier."

The three men disappeared behind their glasses, Arthur gazing at the ceiling, Lucius into the fire and Daniel at the carpet. Eventually, Lucius Malfoy seemed unable neither to force down any more Firewhiskey nor to bear the excruciating silence.

"After all, you are something like my daughter-in-law's adoptive family…" he grunted, casting a sideways glance to Mr. Weasley.

"Oh yes, we almost raised her!" nodded Arthur enthusiastically. "No offense…" he added quickly, looking sheepishly at Mr. Granger.

But the latter shook his head and chuckled:

"Are you kidding? All these holidays, all these school breaks you invited her over… I could never tell you just how grateful I and Jane are!"

Arthur looked pleased yet slightly puzzled, and Lucius quirked an eyebrow.

"I would never have pictured Hermione as a difficult child," he commented.

Mr. Granger took a sip of Firewhiskey and waved a hand.

"You wouldn't know!" he exclaimed. "She was terrible! All the lectures we had to go through, all the punishments… We had to implement a curfew, can you imagine?"

"Hermione? Really?" said Arthur, astonished.

"Draco was always depicting her as perfectly well-behaved…" frowned Lucius, leaning forward on his seat.

"Well-behaved?" scoffed Daniel. "That's a cute euphemism! She was a monster! A miniature tyrant, I tell you!" he snarled, slamming his fist on the coffee table between them and downing his glass.

 ** _Wiltshire, Malfoy Manor, Kitchen – 8:10 p.m._**

"Mother?"

"Mom?"

The giggles running throughout the kitchen stopped at once as the double doors burst open. Molly grabbed the cutting board and pulled it toward her, starting to chop the carrots with a suddenly blank face. Gisela poured herself some more cherry liqueur and brought it to her lips with a supremely bored look. Jane, very red in the face, emitted a small squeak and her stool clattered loudly against the marble floor as she stopped swinging on its rear legs and sat primly upright. Narcissa hurriedly tossed something over the kitchen island; it landed on the floor on the other side with a thud and rolled out of view. Standing on the threshold of the kitchen, Draco and Hermione watched in puzzlement as all the women turned to them with welcoming yet somewhat frozen smiles.

"Good evening, my dears!" greeted them Narcissa after a moment silence, sliding gracefully off her seat and walking over to give her son and Hermione a one-armed hug. "You are early…"

"Actually, we are a bit late," said Draco, raising an eyebrow.

"Are you?" hummed Narcissa distractedly, resuming her seat at the kitchen island.

"Is everything alright?" asked Hermione, her eyes travelling anxiously between Narcissa, her mother, Molly and Mrs. Zabini.

Mrs. Granger nodded vigorously.

"Everything is perfect!" she exclaimed quickly.

"Grand," confirmed Molly.

"Fabulous," agreed Gisela.

"What were you talking about?" asked Draco, frowning suspiciously. "We heard… err… strange noises."

"Stuffing," answered Mrs. Weasley with a perfectly straight face.

Draco and Hermione exchanged looks.

"Stuffing?" repeated Hermione.

"Yes, stuffing," said Narcissa. "Stuffing things… Err…" She cast a hesitant glance at Molly.

"Stuffing the turkey," said Molly offhandedly.

"With carrots," nodded Hermione's mother.

"And zucchinis," chimed in Gisela.

Hermione's gaze ran around the table, paused on the open bottle of cherry liqueur, and she gave Draco a small shrug, grinning slightly. She started to round the kitchen island to hug Mrs. Weasley and her mother, but Molly took a step sideways, barring her way, and Jane leaped off her bar stool, scurrying over with a slightly panicked smile.

"Hermione, Draco, dears, why don't you go upstairs? The others are waiting for you!" exclaimed Mrs. Granger with barely hidden nervousness.

"We just wanted to say hello…" started Hermione, but Molly was already ushering her and Draco out of the kitchen.

Before they could even properly realize what had happened, the double doors slammed shut behind them.

"They hit the bottle a bit, didn't they?" whispered Hermione, gaping at the closed doors as an uproar of giggles sounded inside the kitchen.

Draco stared at the doors in equal disbelief.

"Could have been worse, I guess…" he muttered at last. "Have you seen that knife in Molly's hand? Come on; let's try to find the others…"

 ** _Wiltshire, Malfoy Manor, Lucius' study – 8:21 p.m._**

"… you just picture this; me and Jane creeping out of the garage, completely stoned, you mind… Midnight, the whole house pitch-black… You would think the little gremlin would be asleep? Wrong! That nine-year old control freak was sitting on the stairs, waiting for us! Says it's two hours past curfew, lectured us for ages! And Jane was having this laughing fit; I thought she was going to vomit on the carpet!"

With a shiver of dread, Mr. Granger downed his third glass while Arthur and Lucius roared with laughter.

"First thing we did when she left for Hogwarts was to roll ourselves the biggest joint of our life to smoke in peace on our frigging couch in our frigging house!" cried Daniel. "This school was a blessing, I tell you!"

"Speaking about school…" choked out Lucius once he had managed to catch his breath. "I'd've sent Draco to the North Pole, if only Narcissa had let me! I'd been writing letters to Durmstrang's Headmaster for years to make sure they had a place for him! Believe me, you had it easy with her on the clingy side!"

Arthur and Daniel leaned forward eagerly as Lucius emptied the decanter into their glasses and walked to a glass-fronted cabinet behind his mahogany desk to take another one.

 ** _Wiltshire, Malfoy Manor, Kitchen – 8:21 p.m._**

"The biggest problem is of course to find a stash for it… I could never pass it off as a real unicorn horn!" sighed Narcissa despairingly.

The four women considered thoughtfully the Holly Jolly Witch's Ride 2000, which was now proudly enthroned in the middle of the immaculate kitchen island, pointing to the crystal chandelier overhead.

"Well, I don't hide it at all," said Molly.

Narcissa, Gisela and Jane gaped at her in awe.

"Lucius would have a fit, if he found it!" breathed Narcissa.

Molly smirked.

"Oh, Arthur even encourages me to expand my collection! See, a few years ago, he asked Harry what's the function of a rubber duck, and the dear boy – bless him! – told him it was just a toy Muggles put in their bath…"

Jane clapped her hands, being the first one to understand, and she and Molly exchanged mischievous looks.

" _But I know very well what these toys are for!_ " finished Molly. " _Brrzzzzzt_ …" she buzzed with a meaningful look.

" _Oooooh!_ " chorused Narcissa and Gisela, finally understanding.

"I have nine of them now," said Molly with satisfaction. "Arthur is over the moon; he thinks I'm supporting his mania for Muggle things."

"That's so clever…" sighed Gisela with an envious look. "I've never tried Muggle toys!"

"They seem so much more advanced than we are on that matter…" nodded Narcissa regretfully.

 _BAM!_ The three witches jumped as Mrs. Granger suddenly slammed onto the table an innocent-looking suitcase that had been standing at her feet.

"Looks like it's your lucky day!" she chanted, snapping the suitcase open.

" _Merlin's sack!_ " cried Narcissa, seizing a napkin to fan herself frantically as she stared at the contents of the suitcase.

 ** _Wiltshire, Malfoy Manor, Drawing room – 8:21 p.m._**

"… If I could speak the language of Nargles, they would be amazed, and I would be their queen…" Luna sighed dreamily, lying on her back in an armchair with her legs propped up against its back and her head hanging in the void from the edge of the seat.

"These are so delicious!" said Ron in a muffled voice, licking his fingers as he stuffed his mouth with the last bits of the last muffin. "I could have a gustatory orgasm eating them…"

"I would be kind to my Nargle subjects. At first…" continued Luna, her big round eyes lost in space.

"Hey, Ron…" called Harry, slightly breathless as he chuckled without any apparent reason, slouched across his own armchair. "Hey… Ron, buddy… Hey, Ron! If you had to choose between food and sex for the rest of your life, what would you give up?"

"One day, I hold a great ball for the Minister of Magic, but the Nargles, they hate me and don't come. I am embarrassed, so I burn all the mistletoe in the world and make them watch!" said Luna fiercely, pumping her fist in the air.

"I dunno… Food. No, sex," mumbled Ron, his features screwed in concentration. "Food… Sex… Food… I want girls covered in muffin dough!"

"What's in this muffins anyway?" asked Ginny, licking her lips and her voice unusually slow. "They have a weird minty aftertaste…"

Rolf, who was sprawled across the carpet at the foot of Luna's armchair, stirred and brushed his long dreadlocks off his face.

"Am not sure… Grandma Tina and Grandpa Newt made them… Said there was a secret ingredient…" he shrugged.

Ginny licked her lips again, frowning as though she tried to remember something.

"Theo..." she called. "Where is Theo? Guys… I think we are high… Lu', your boyfriend drugged us… Hahaha! Theo! Did he pass out?"

There was suddenly a loud noise somewhere around the foot of the giant Christmas tree in the far corner of the room, and Theo emerged from the depths of a large hill of gifts like a mole breaking through the ground.

" _Bingle… jells…_ Somebody called?" he mumbled with a haggard look.

Harry, Ron, and Ginny burst into uncontrollable giggles…

 ** _Wiltshire, Malfoy Manor, Lucius' study – 8:26 p.m._**

"Gentlemen! Gentlemen, listen… Listen to me…"

Lucius Malfoy leaned forward on his seat, waggling his finger theatrically and slurring his words. Daniel Granger and Arthur Weasley perched on the edge of their armchairs, hanging on his every word, although their gazes were now slightly out of focus.

"I've been walking with a cane since I was thirty!" Lucius hiccupped and cleared his throat. "Pardon… So, why d'you think, huh? Why d'you think I need a fucking cane to walk?"

Arthur and Daniel looked at him interrogatively.

"I'll tell you why!" snarled Lucius, shaking his head. " _For years_... For years, this little bitch would wrap himself around my left leg and wouldn't let go! Sometimes, I would walk around for hours with him clinging onto me and bawling about that new broomstick or whatever he wanted! My leg has never been the same after that… It's still more muscled than the other! If I wasn't walking with a cane, I would be limping! Bouncing sideways! That blond Grindylow made me a cripple!"

" _Oh man_ …" muttered Daniel and Arthur sympathetically.

Lucius heaved a heart-wrenching sigh and took a big gulp of Firewhiskey.

"The only positive thing since I knocked Cissy up and that little shit-machine barged into our lives was when she was still pregnant… She had this period, you know, when she would climb all over me like she wanted to shag me into oblivion! Good old days… Then, that stinky, screaming bundle arrived, and I could as well forget about the primary purpose of the marital bed! It became a desert… A barren wasteland… A forsaken place of desolation…"

Arthur and Daniel bowed their heads as he downed his glass. For a moment, the three men sat in mournful silence.

"Arthur," said suddenly Lucius, reaching to grasp Mr. Weasley's shoulder, "you know, I've always mocked you and your family… But I have to tell you this; I've always envied you! Really!" He looked Mr. Weasley sternly in the eye as the latter started to shake his head incredulously, "I tell you… All I can think about is the _incredible amount of fuckery_ you had to get there! Dan, am I right or not?"

"Totally! So, so right!" Mr. Granger nodded in agreement, patting Arthur's shoulder.

"You don't know what you are talking about…" replied Mr. Weasley somberly. "Listen…"

 ** _Wiltshire, Malfoy Manor, Kitchen – 8:26 p.m._**

"… vibrating mode, massaging mode…"

" _Oooh!_ "

"… slow, medium speed, fast…"

" _Oooooh!_ "

"… heating function, with or without balls…"

" _OOOOOOOH!_ "

"… latex or natural skin feeling…"

" _OOOOOOOOH!_ "

"… pink, blue, skin color, black, gold…"

" _OOOOOOOOOOH!_ "

"… four inches, six inches, eight inches…"

" _OOOOOOOOOOOOH!_ "

"… springy, relatively pliant, unbending flexibility! Now, dare tell me that Muggles know nothing of wand-making!" Mrs. Granger finished her presentation triumphantly to thunderous applause.

Breathless, Narcissa had slumped onto the surface of the kitchen island and was hammering it with her fists ecstatically.

" _MERLIN'S GLANS RUBBED RAW!_ "

 ** _Wiltshire, Malfoy Manor, Lucius' study – 8:30 p.m._**

"You have no idea of what it's been!" exclaimed Arthur, clutching tufts of his thinning hair.

He now sat on the carpeted floor, Lucius and Daniel on either side of him and patting his back bracingly. The second decanter of Firewhiskey was standing on the floor between them and was now half-empty.

"Molly has this strange resistance to Contraceptive potions and spells… We've tried them all, I tell you! At some point and five kids later, I just gave up, and whenever we would allow ourselves to get feisty, I would add a new room to the house, just in case… Only after Ginny was born did Perkins think it useful to tell me about these things Muggles use – _condoms!_ So clever… Where did my life go?"

Mr. Weasley covered his eyes with his hand and a sob erupted from his chest.

"Arthur… Arthur, old pal," called Lucius, dabbing the corners of his own eyes and his voice breaking, "We were young…"

"So young!" wailed Arthur.

"Too young!" echoed Daniel.

The three men fell in each others' arms, their heads together and tears rolling down their cheeks.

"But I love them, you know… Each one of these little demons… Even Percy!" spluttered Mr. Weasley. And Gred and Forge… Err… Fred and George… How could I live without them, huh?"

"I know, I know…" sobbed Mr. Granger. "And she's the best daughter I could ever wish for – Hermione! She was an angel… When she would fall asleep and shut her mouth so we would stop having the impression of living in Discovery Channel…"

"Same here, same here…" hiccupped Lucius Malfoy. "I was being unfair to Draco… With a few drops of Sleeping Draught in his baby bottle, he actually looked human… Bottoms up, gentlemen!"

 ** _Wiltshire, Malfoy Manor, First-floor corridor – 8:30 p.m._**

"Do you hear this?" asked Hermione as she and Draco reached the stairs landing of the first floor and stepped into the wide corridor on their right.

They both paused, listening; from halfway down the corridor where they saw a well of light streaming through the gaping doorway of the drawing room, they could hear loud cheers and roaring accompanied by rhythmic pounding noises that sounded like feet stomping on the floor and fists being slammed on a table. Hermione and Draco exchanged bemused looks and hurried down the hallway. They stopped dead in their tracks on the threshold of the drawing room, nearly knocked off their feet by the scene that opened before them.

Harry, Ron, Ginny, Rolf, and Luna were all sitting on the edge of their armchairs around the coffee table in the middle of the room, positively howling with laughter and tears rolling down their cheeks as they drummed their fists on the coffee table. Said table was nearly crumbling under the weight of a very scruffy-looking, human-sized Christmas elf, who was no other than Theo, perched on top of it and leaping from one foot to the other as he executed a wild dance.

"WHO LET THE ELVES OUT?" he shouted.

"WHO? WHO? WHO? WHO?" barked the five others, pounding enthusiastically.

"WHO LET THE ELVES OUT?"

"WHO? WHO? WHO? WHO?"

Thunderstruck and speechless, Draco and Hermione gawked at the scene. Meanwhile, Theo decided to switch to a new song and started to flail his arms like a conductor before an orchestra, bellowing:

" _I SAW RONNIE KISSING SANTA CLAUS_

 _UNDERNEATH THE MISTLETOE LAST NIGHT!_

 _THEY DIDN'T SEE ME CREEP_

 _ON THEM TO HAVE A PEEP!_

 _I SAW AS SANTA DUCKED_

' _CAUSE RONNIE TRULY SUCKED!_

 _AND NOW THEY ARE BOTH FUCKED!"_

"You are a dick, Nott!" yelled Ron without however stopping laughing hysterically.

" _THEN, I SAW RONNIE TICKLE SANTA CLAUS_

 _UNDERNEATH HIS BEARD SO SNOWY WHITE;_

 _OH, WHAT A LAUGH IT WOULD HAVE BEEN,_

 _IF LAV-LAV HAD ONLY SEEN_

 _RONNIE KISSING SANTA CLAUS LAST NIGHT!_ "

"What's happening?" breathed Hermione feebly, looking at Draco with eyes full of horror.

"We were going to ask the same question!" said a familiar voice behind them.

Hermione and Draco jumped and whirled around; Blaise was striding down the hallway in their direction, his hands stuck in the pockets of his dinner suit. He was followed by the most peculiar young woman Hermione has ever seen; a tall blonde with a long mane of curly hair, undeniably pretty, though her angelic face was garishly-painted. She was wearing a fuchsia nylon pinafore dress that hugged her generous curves, black and yellow striped tights and bright red high heel shoes. The general impression was one of an exotic bird escaped from the aviary of a zoo. Hermione's mouth fell open, and Draco closed his eyes for a second as to brace himself.

"Draco, mate, glad you're still alive! Hermione, sweetheart… Please, let me introduce you to Cherry!" exclaimed Blaise, beaming.

 ** _Wiltshire, Malfoy Manor, Dining room – 9:43 p.m._**

The light in the vast dining room of the mansion was dazzling. Besides the two enormous crystal chandeliers hanging above the long dining table, the four floor-to-ceiling Christmas trees standing in each corner of the room could have been enough to light it all. Shining live fairies were fluttering between the branches, making the enchanted snow covering the needles sparkle and the everlasting icicles glitter like diamonds. The large diamond stars at the top of each tree seemed to radiate their own glow, and the garlands crisscrossing under the high vaulted ceiling sparkled silver as they undulated slightly in a nonexistent breeze, reflecting in the polished dark wood floor.

In the middle of all this bluish white and cold silver glow, the huge marble fireplace on the right side of the room cast a bright, warm light upon the golden plates and the crystal flutes on the dining table. Apart from the crackling of the fire in the hearth and the quiet clanking of knives and forks, the silence in the room was almost eerie as the seventeen diners seated around the table tucked in the Christmas turkey.

At one end of the long table, Lucius, Arthur, and Daniel sat side by side, their heads bowed over their plates as they focused on their meal with looks of deep concentration. Their struggle to cut their meat was almost painful to watch, their forks and knives clattering against their plates because of their shaking hands. Their cheeks were rosy, and all three of them were biting their lips as though desperately trying to stifle the laughter that threatened to overcome them. Every now and then, giggles broke through Lucius' pursed lips and he tried to disguise them into strange hiccoughs, the three men then sneaking sheepish glances at their wives who sat across from them.

But Narcissa, Molly, and Jane seemed to have more interesting things in mind than their inebriated husbands. They and Blaise's mother were exchanging furtive looks, and each time their lips curled into small conniving smirks before they dived back into their plates, their shoulders shaking with silent giggles.

The diners around the second half of the table were doing an even poorer job of hiding their condition. While Theo had the decency to bury his face in the crook of his arm, he couldn't push the discretion as to stifle the muffled and irrepressible wails of laughter that erupted from his chest. Rolf, Ron and Harry were stuffing their mouths as though they had been starving for days. Ginny stared fixedly at what was left of her peas and turkey as she tried to eat as slowly as possible, her eyes glassy and very red in the face. Luna was the only one who didn't look high as a kite, but it was only due to her trademark dreamy expression and bulging eyes, which made it impossible to tell the difference from her usual self.

Finally, Blaise and Cherry sat facing each other, and while the young woman observed the scene with sharp interest, the Italian watched apprehensively the person on his left out of the corner of his eye.

At the very end of the table and across from Draco (who was eyeing her with equal wariness), Hermione sat primly upright, her elbows on the table and her fingertips joined together, stone-faced yet her eyes were blazing dangerously. Her gaze was traveling up and down the long table, her eyes narrowing to slits and her lips tightening more and more as she took in one by one the faces of her friends, parents, and parents-in-law. If looks could flay, all of them would have been skinned alive, but they seemed completely oblivious to the danger.

Lucius was the first one to become aware of the lingering silence. After another quick glance at Narcissa, who was too busy chuckling quietly with Molly and Jane, he peered around the table and his eyes rested upon the voluptuous Cherry.

"So," said the Malfoy patriarch, clearing his throat and leaning forward so he could make himself heard from Blaise. "This is a fine young lady you've chosen, Blaise. I like her very much. She has… err… an intelligent look…"

Narcissa's, Molly's and Jane's heads shot up at once.

"Lucius!" snapped Narcissa, swelling with indignation.

"What is it, Cissy-mine?" mumbled Lucius, whirling to her at once.

The women glared at their husbands. Daniel and Arthur stopped pretending to eat and eyed their wives warily, their forks halfway to their mouths. The three men seemed to deflate and shrink, pinned to their spots by their wives' furious gazes.

"Do you think we haven't noticed you all staring at this… _this harlot_ throughout the evening!" hissed Narcissa scornfully, half-rising from her high-backed chair, her hands braced on the table on either side of her plate as she leaned towards her husband threateningly.

Lucius recoiled, the feet of his chair scraping against the floor. Cherry raised her eyebrows, looking offended, and Blaise opened his mouth to protest. But before any of them could say anything, a loud bang sounded in the dining-room; Hermione had leaped to her feet, overthrowing her chair.

" _OH FOR GOD'S SAKE!_ " she snarled, slamming her fist on the table.

Everybody jumped, dropping their forks. Her father, Lucius, and Arthur turned away from their wives to stare fearfully in the direction of this new danger. Narcissa fell back onto her seat. Mrs. Granger emitted a small squeal and tried to make herself as small as possible. Theo ducked under the table, his dilated pupils peering over its edge. Ron gawked at her, his mouth full of mashed potato hanging open. Blaise nudged Rolf who was sitting on his right, and he, Rolf and Harry scooted sideways on their seats to put some distance between them and Hermione.

"Hermione, princess…" started Draco soothingly, setting his fork and knife down on the table.

"Don't you see?" she shouted, turning to him and gesturing wildly at the others. "Don't you see what's going on? Just look at them! _These_ have three sheets to the wind!" ("We are glorious!" protested Lucius feebly; Hermione silenced him with one look.) " _These_ are completely spaced-out!" she continued vehemently ("Can't argue with that…" admitted Theo from under the table). "… And your best friend brought a hooker to a family Christmas dinner! You know what, Draco, don't you worry about ruining our marriage! Our friends and family are doing it for you just fine!"

Hermione slumped back onto her chair, breathing heavily and glowering at them all. At the other end of the table, her father and Lucius stared at her with wide eyes, before suddenly bursting into uncontrollable giggles.

"She's so tiny!" choked Lucius as Mr. Granger collapsed sideways into his arms, crying with laughter. "It's so funny when she is mad!"

Hermione gaped at them in outrage.

"Mom!" she exclaimed incredulously, turning to Jane Granger, who started and failed to look completely innocent. "How could you let Dad drink himself into this state? And you, Narcissa, what were you doing while they were all caning it?"

"I… Err…" started Narcissa, looking slightly worried. "We were busy…"

"Busy?" repeated Hermione.

"Excuse me," interrupted a voice.

Everybody turned to Cherry, who had straightened on her chair.

"I would just like to clarify something," she said angrily. "I don't know what Blaise told you…" she gave him a sharp look and he coughed uneasily, "… but I _am not_ a hooker! I'm a sex therapist! I work at St Mungo's. We met there two weeks ago after he was brought to the emergency ward because of a Firewhiskey poisoning."

"Oh..." breathed Hermione and Narcissa in unison, while the men averted their gazes, looking rightfully ashamed.

Cherry took her flute of champagne and sipped it with a dignified expression.

"Well…" started Hermione, frowning and a little flustered, but she was interrupted again.

"Excuse Minnie, Masters!" chirped a tiny, high-pitched voice from the threshold of the dining room. "Minnie is sorry; Minnie has something for Mistress Cissa…"

A small, female house-elf with a snout-like nose, round muddy-brown eyes and wearing a cloth napkin like a toga came scuttling into view. She was bouncing with every step and bending over immediately before taking the next, so it was impossible to see what she was pressing against her chest. Everybody watched the creature scurry to Narcissa and bend low at her feet, saying:

"Mistress Cissa forgot something in the kitchen… Minnie is bringing it back to Mistress Cissa…"

The elf straightened. Mrs. Granger squeaked and clasped her hands over her mouth. Molly and Gisela winced, horrorstruck. Lucius' flute of champagne slipped out of his hand and smashed on the floor. Cherry gasped in awe. Blaise's brows rose high on his forehead in evident delight. Theo emerged from under the table to have a better look. Hermione's eyes widened as she gaped, thunderstruck, not even reacting when Draco choked and sputtered, spraying her with champagne across the table. Everybody around the table froze, their gazes converging to the Holly Jolly Witch's Ride 2000 the elf was handing reverently to Narcissa, whose cheeks were now a deep shade of magenta.

"Wha- What... C-Cissy… What…?" choked Lucius, apparently having momentarily lost his ability of speech.

"Lucius, breathe!" exclaimed Narcissa, pulling herself together quickly and taking the toy with a regal poise.

"Oh no, no, no… You've got to be kidding me…" whispered Draco at the other end of the table, burying his face in his hands.

Hermione reached over and wrapped her fingers around his right wrist bracingly. Everyone else was watching with bated breath.

"What is this?" croaked Lucius, clutching his heart.

"What do you think?" replied Narcissa, cutting gracefully her turkey with a thoroughly bored look, the Holly Jolly lying across her lap under the table.

"B-But… _why?_ " moaned Lucius.

His wife gave him a sharp look.

"Well, a woman has needs, darling," she answered curtly through pursed lips.

" _No, no, no!_ " breathed Draco in a strangled voice, slumping forward and resting his forehead against the table.

Hermione stroked the back of his head distractedly, her eyes not leaving Lucius' shocked, paling face.

"B-But, sugarplum, I-I'm here for these, and I-I think I'm doing a good job!" stuttered Lucius.

"Do you?" said Narcissa, unfazed.

"Kill me… Kill me now!" breathed Draco, clinging onto Hermione's hand.

"Well, of course! I would know if you were left unsatisfied!" exclaimed Lucius forcefully. "I would know if you were faking it!"

"Where is my bloody wand?" muttered Draco, rummaging in his pockets frantically.

"Huh huh," hummed Narcissa, chewing carefully her roast potatoes.

"What's that supposed to mean?" asked Lucius indignantly.

"Nothing," shrugged Narcissa calmly. "It's just that all men are sure it never happened to them and all women have done it at some point, so you do the math."

Her words were met with a murmur of agreement from Molly, Jane, Gisela, Cherry, and Theo. The men frowned, but Lucius drew himself up.

"I would know," he snorted disdainfully.

Narcissa set her knife and fork down, dabbed at the corners of her mouth with her napkin and looked up at him blankly.

"Hmm," she sniffed.

His expression smug, Lucius had started eating again.

"Hmm…" hummed Narcissa, letting herself go against the back of her chair. "Hmmmm…"

About to put his fork into his mouth, Lucius paused in mid-gesture and frowned at her.

"Everything alright, dear?"

"Mmmh… Mmmmmmh…" hummed Narcissa louder, her eyes fluttering closed and running a hand through her hair.

Lucius put his fork down, eyeing her warily. Hermione quickly pulled Draco's knife and fork out of his reach before he could realize what was happening. Nobody else moved.

"Mmmmh… Oh…" breathed Narcissa, pressing her fingertips lasciviously against her lips and arching a little. "Oh yes…"

Lucius stared at her in utter bewilderment. At the other end of the table, Draco's jaw fell open in a silent scream of horror as he sat frozen in his chair.

"Mmmmh… Oh, oh! Yes, like this… Yes…" moaned Narcissa, throwing her head back and arching even more, all the while messing her blond hair with her hands. "Oh, yes! Mmmmh! Just like this, yes!" she cried, obviously in mounting bliss, and slammed her right hand on the table, making her plate rattle. "Yes! Yes! _Oh_ … Oooooh! Yes!" The words were leaving her mouth in a rapid, incoherent stream; she was panting. "Yes! Harder! _OH DEAR MERLIN!_ YES!" she shouted, now pounding the table with her fists, her hair a mess, her cheeks flushed. " _LUCIUS!_ OH LUCIUS, THAT'S SO GOOD! OOOOH…" she screamed, mewling and moaning. "OH MERLIN! NOW! _OOOOOOOH YES!"_

And with that final scream of pure pleasure, she suddenly stilled and sat primly upright, taking back her fork and knife.

"Pass the salt, please?" she said collectedly, looking up at her utterly appalled husband with a perfectly straight face.

Everyone around the table stirred, the men gulping thickly and staring fixedly at their plates. Molly and Jane high-fived, while a little smirk graced Narcissa's lips. Hermione turned worriedly to Draco; he was looking past her with empty eyes as though his soul had left his body.

"Hermione," he said in a hollow voice, "if you love me, would you please stab me in the ear right now? And make sure to drive the knife up to my brain."

Hermione reached over to squeeze his hands in hers, biting her lips hard. Slowly, robotically, Lucius turned to look at Cherry from the other end of the table.

"I would like to make an appointment. As soon as possible, please," he said quietly.

 ** _Wiltshire, Malfoy Manor, Drawing room – Christmas, 00:43 a.m._**

Snow was quietly falling on the other side of the diamond-paned windows, ghostly white snowflakes fluttering slowly down onto the stone sill in the night outside. The drawing room was full of flickering shadows, the high flames crackling in the fireplace being the only source of light. A peaceful silence reigned in the room. Every now and then, a deep sigh came to disturb it as everybody, full of Christmas pudding and drowsy, digested their dinner, staring into the flames from their respective armchairs, loveseats, or cushions strewn across the carpeted floor. The high hills of gifts around the Christmas tree were no longer, replaced by a sea of torn and crumpled wrapping paper and entangled ribbons. The presents were piled in heaps next to their new owners, most of whom still had a glassy look in their eyes; some from unreasonable amounts of liquor, others from Rolf and Luna's special muffins, most from the copious meal they had all ingested.

Sitting cross-legged on a velvety throw pillow right before the hearth so the heat washed over her in waves, Hermione looked over her shoulder to where Draco was sitting in an armchair across the room. He was twiddling absently with the hem of the unavoidable dark green Christmas jumper Mrs. Weasley had knitted for him and which was now the fourth in his collection. His shoulders were slightly hunched and the hair on the left side of his head stuck out at angles as he had been running his hand repeatedly through it. The small crease Hermione knew so well was back between his eyebrows. Sensing her gaze on him, Draco looked up and gave a weary and somewhat sad kind of smile.

Hermione averted her gaze and bit her lip, peering out of the corner of her eye at the others; nobody was paying attention. Theo had dozed off, curled up like a cat on the carpet next to her. Ron was sulking in a corner, glowering at all the couples – Ginny and Harry, Luna and Rolf, and Blaise and Cherry – who were snuggled against each other. Mr. Weasley and her father were engrossed in inaudible conversation, and to her surprise, so were Mrs. Weasley, her mother and Mrs. Zabini. Narcissa was sitting on Lucius' lap in a loveseat. Stretching her legs, Hermione discretely got to her feet.

Purposefully avoiding looking at Draco, she walked throughout the room, picking up from the floor the colorful little bows that had once been decorating the presents. When she had gathered a handful of them, she raised her head and slowly made her way to Draco, stepping soundlessly on the carpet, her high heel shoes discarded by the fireplace. He watched her draw nearer with curiosity; the shadow of a mysterious smile was tugging at the corners of her mouth. Hermione stopped a few steps away and tilted her head as though lost in thought.

"I haven't given you your present yet," she said softly, looking the young man in the eye.

"Oh," said Draco hesitantly, "Oh, well, you really didn't have to buy me anything, after…"

His voice trailed off, and he looked down at his hands, his face darkening.

"I know," replied Hermione simply, "But I didn't buy it. And it's not exactly like I had the choice either."

He looked up, frowning slightly. Hermione was acutely aware that all the conversations had died in the room behind her and everybody was now discretely listening to them. In lieu of an answer, she took one of the little bows and pressed it against her stomach, sticking it with what was left of the glue to the fabric of her dress. Draco's gaze shifted between her face and the little golden bow blankly. Hermione sighed and stuck another one next to the first, giving Draco a pointed look, while her smile became more mischievous. Draco's eyes widened suddenly.

" _Oh!_ " he said.

His gaze flickered to their friends and families – they all looked equally puzzled – before coming back to her.

" _Right now?_ " he whispered. "You want us to… err… _go to another room_?"

When Hermione understood what he was talking about, she had to refrain from rolling her eyes. Smirking, she stuck the four remaining bows to her dress, forming a small circle on her belly, and stood waiting with her hands clasped together in her back. But Draco now seemed utterly confused. His eyes kept travelling between her face, the little sparkling bows and the others, who were not so quiet anymore; Narcissa, Hermione's mother and Molly had gotten to their feet, their hands clasped over their mouths, Ginny emitted a delighted squeal, Blaise's mother and Cherry were exchanging knowing looks, and even Luna seemed to have snapped out of her torpor. Only the men were still in complete bewilderment.

"Well, at this point, we can only hope for it to have her brains!" said Theo, who had woken up and was now shaking his head with an expression akin to pity.

He winked at Hermione, and she chuckled.

And when she turned back to Draco, she found that it had finally dawned on him. Staring at her, he rose clumsily to his feet and took a step forward before stopping. He gestured tentatively at her stomach.

"You… You are…" he breathed. " _Are you?_ " His voice was suddenly quivering.

Hermione blinked back a tear.

"Yes," she nodded, "I am pregn-… _Oomph_!"

All breath was knocked out of her lungs as Draco's lips crashed on top of hers and he pulled her in a fierce embrace, lifting her off the floor. Still holding her up in the air, he pulled away from her lips and looked up at her; a storm of emotions was raging across his face, and he had a wild, disbelieving, overjoyed look in his quicksilver eyes.

"You are pregnant…" he repeated in a strangled voice.

"That's what I've been wanting to tell you that night," said Hermione quietly, smiling, her arms wrapped around his shoulders and her forehead resting against his.

Draco's expression turned into a horrified look.

"And I... I..." he choked.

"… You kicked your pregnant wife out!" snickered Blaise.

Releasing Hermione, Draco stumbled sideways and ran a hand through his hair.

"Blaise!" snapped Hermione, glowering at the Italian. "What did I tell you yesterday?"

"Yes, ma'am. Sorry, ma'am," he mumbled sheepishly.

Hermione turned back to Draco and wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling him against her firmly. Standing on the tip of her toes, she nuzzled the tip of her nose against his.

"He is right," he whispered. "Even if you do manage to forgive me someday…"

"You are an idiot," cut him off Hermione, grinning.

"… I don't know how I could ever make it up to you," he finished.

"How about telling me if you are happy?" said Hermione in a low voice.

"Happy?"

Draco leaned in, pressing his lips against hers. She could feel his heart thundering inside his chest.

"Of course I'm happy!" he chuckled shakily.

Hermione smiled.

"Merry Christmas then…" she whispered.

"Don't you worry, son," said Lucius' voice behind them as he walked over, closely followed by everyone else. "Even if she does forgive you, you will be hearing about this as long as I'm alive!"

 _ **Fin.**_

* * *

 **A/N:** It's done! So? How was it? I really hope you had fun reading it! Leave a last little review to share your thoughts! Thank you for being the lovely, supportive readers you are!

This is not a promise, but I might write a one-shot sequel at some point… So if someday you get a notification in your mailbox, it would mean that I posted the sequel as chapter 12.

 **References:**

"Rachel: Oh God. What about you, Joe? What would you give up, sex or food?

Joey: Uhm... oh... I don't know, it's too hard.

Rachel: No, you gotta pick one!

Joey: Oh... food. No, sex. Food! Sex! Food! Se-I don't know! Good God, I don't know, I want girls on bread!" – _Friends_ , S10E10, The one where Chandler gets caught.

"Raj: If I could speak the language of rabbits, they would be amazed, and I would be their king. I would be kind to my rabbit subjects. At first. One day, I hold a great ball for the President of France, but the rabbits, they hate me and don't come. I am embarrassed, so I eat all the lettuce in the world and make them watch." – _The Big Bang Theory_ , S3E8, The Adhesive Duck Deficiency.

Narcissa's fake orgasm: The famous restaurant scene in _When Harry met Sally_ , 1989

The songs " _I saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus_ " by the Jackson 5 and " _Who let the dogs out_ " by Baha Men.


	12. THE SEQUEL IS UP!

THE FIRST CHAPTER OF THE SEQUEL IS UP!

Turns out it will be a multi-chaptered story! Go find it on my profile:

 **7 Months of Mayhem**

Sacred Twenty-Eight minus One: Hermione is expecting! Mood swings, childbirth classes, invasive friends and family... If Draco was hoping for some peace and quiet after the Christmas madness, he was very much mistaken! (If you are looking for something serious, you won't find it here!)

Enjoy your read, don't forget to leave a review, and most of all: have fun!

Thank you to everyone for all the new favorites and reviews since I finished this story! You are making my day, you wonderful people!


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